


Vir 'lath sa'vunin'

by Alisienna



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Dragon Age Spoilers, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Lavellan/Solas Fluff (Dragon Age), POV Female Character, POV Solas (Dragon Age), Pining Solas (Dragon Age), Protective Solas (Dragon Age), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisienna/pseuds/Alisienna
Summary: Alternate universe re-telling of the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition where Solas tells Lavellan who he is. Otherwise canon compliant. Chapter Titles indicate POV. Book One of a multi-part story. Title is the last line of "Leliana's Song", and means "We Love One More Day"All other Elvish translations credited to the work of Fenxshiral in their Project Elvhen work published on this site.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Solas - Relationship
Comments: 113
Kudos: 89





	1. Solas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome, thank you for reading!
> 
> This story is intended to be mostly canon-compliant, with some small tweaking. I wanted to fill in pieces I felt were missing due to the medium of a video game. As I've been writing it, I've skipped some bits in the game that I either did not feel inspired to write or felt did not needed to be changed to tell the story I wanted to tell. I'll put notes at the beginning of each chapter to indicate what was skipped if anything so hopefully it's not too confusing :)
> 
> Chapter 1 begins just after the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, as Solas is tending to the wounded and unconscious Lavellan.

So far, nothing had gone as he’d expected.

There should not have been an explosion. The red lyrium should not have been present – that was foolhardy, on the magister’s part. Too unpredictable. He would have to clean _that_ up, somehow. The political chaos caused was a minor side effect but it would make his plans more difficult than necessary to accomplish, logistically speaking.

If only he’d been strong enough on his own, not slept so long. . .

He shook his head. No sense dwelling. Time to move forward. Deal with the problems at hand.

_Heh. At hand, indeed._

He looked down again at the hand in question. Undoubtedly, he’d have to recover that power at some point. But for the time being, there was no way to do that reliably without sacrificing its current host. That was not impossible, but preferably avoided. He had always loathed unnecessary loss of life.

Besides, it was difficult to look upon one of the People and contemplate ending their life, under any circumstance. Even if she wasn’t one of _his_ People, exactly.

Her face was quiet now. He watched her for reactions as he probed at the anchor in her palm, stopping whenever pain flickered across her unconscious features. She was young, even by the standards of this time; he guessed she’d barely seen a quarter of a century, at most. Her skin was tan from a life lived outdoors, smoother than he’d expected from someone who’d lived in near-constant exposure to the elements. A spray of freckles colored her cheeks and nose, covered in places by the vallaslin marks on her forehead and cheekbones. Mythal’s marks, he noted absently. Appropriate. And more than a little ironic.

Her long, dark auburn hair had been swept into a complex braided style that was now tangled beyond repair, strands straggling and sticking out across the blanket they’d folded up behind her head. He reached up and gently lifted a strand that had drifted onto her face and smoothed it back as best he could. She murmured under her breath, no words exactly, just a reaction to the contact. Her eyes flickered under their lids as she walked the Fade.

He wondered what color her eyes were.

Not that it mattered. Just another question he might get an answer to later, if she woke.

“No change yet?” The Seeker’s heavily accented speech greeted him from the doorway to the basement where the woman slept. Her boots clicked on the floor as she moved into the room.

“None, I am afraid. I have tried all the magics at my disposal and I believe I have been able to contain the an – the mark, for now at least. It should not spread beyond her hand or do her any further harm,” he replied. He eyed the Seeker warily. She seemed an honest soul, and she gave him her word he would come to no harm if he showed no signs of becoming a danger, so he trusted her at the moment. But he had learned long ago that it was all too easy to misplace trust.

He’d rather not have to kill her, either.

Cassandra eyed him when he nearly said “the anchor” but seemed to dismiss it as a stumble in speech.

Good, that would add to the humble apostate persona.

“Can we do nothing to wake her? She was the only witness to what happened to the Divine. We must have answers for the people soon, mage.” She managed to keep most of the sneer out of that last word. But not all.

“Adan has attempted giving her all the medicines he knew off hand. He is researching what he can to attempt another concoction, I believe.”

Cassandra nodded, once. “Very good. Please let me know immediately if anything changes.” She turned and strode back up the stairs and out of sight. He heard her murmur something to the guard as she passed. If he had been a humble apostate in truth, he might not have heard it.

 _“Watch him. Do not let him leave._ ”

He gave no outward sign he had heard the words, but inwardly he sighed. It was always the same. The ignorant fear, the distrust of the unknown. He had given them no reason to think he would do them harm (although he could, even more so once he unlocked his reserve in the orb, once he found the bloody thing again) and _still_ they persisted in acting like he was another explosion just waiting to happen.

This world, these humans, were insufferable.

How much longer must he endure?

*******

It went on like that for two days. The Seeker had food and water sent for him. He was allowed a few moments per day to walk outside and stretch his legs, under supervision of course. Other than that, he remained at the woman’s side. Adan came back once more with another concoction to try – it smelled foul, worse even than tea – but it did nothing.

Every few hours the Seeker would come and check on her, growing more and more irritated each time she was not awake to answer questions.

“I do not think you will be able to wake her by scowling at her, Seeker, but I admit that is a method I have not yet attempted.”

That earned him the privilege of becoming the new target for her ire.

“Please, apostate, make light of it. It is only that people are dying each minute she sleeps as demons pour from the Breach in droves and we have no way to stop them.”

It was Solas’ turn to scowl. He stood and faced the Seeker fully. He tried to keep his voice steady. “I am fully aware of the suffering this event has caused. Probably more than you, in point of fact. I am doing everything I can to keep her from dying along with them.”

He possibly had let his frustration creep into his tone, then. He attempted to smooth out his features into a more neutral expression.

“Seeker, I am not much more knowledgeable than you about what this is. I have done everything I know to do.” He gave a small shrug of his shoulders, parting his hands in a supplicative gesture he hoped would disarm her.

It worked.

Cassandra sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know, Solas, my apologies. None of us know what we are dealing with.”

He nearly gaped at that. An apology? How novel. He could count on one hand the number of times a quickling had apologized to him.

And for someone who had lived as long as he had, that was saying quite a bit.

He nodded once, accepting the apology. “Consider it forgotten.”

****

Soon after that, the Child of the Stone came to see what was going on. He looked at the woman, still asleep on the cot, and grunted.

“Huh. Hell of a thing, her coming out of . . .” He waved a hand in a vague gesture. “All that.”

He grabbed a nearby stool and sat down next to the cot, and next to him.

“So uh, what’s your story, then? You don’t look Dalish. But you don’t look accustomed to city life either.”

“Astute observations. Both things are true.”

“I knew it. So what gives? You don’t fit anywhere, which says to me whatever you’ve been doing would make for quite a tale.” The dwarf leaned in, his expression eager.

Solas returned his gaze and shrugged. “I am afraid it is not nearly so interesting as you might think. I grew up in a small village, learned my magic at a young age, and I spend my time wandering, looking for interesting places and the knowledge to be gleaned from them.”

The dwarf squinted at him. “C’mon, really? That’s it?”

His expression remained neutral. “That’s it.”

The dwarf continued to squint for a moment, but then leaned back and smiled. “Ah, well keep your secrets then. But if you ever feel like spilling them, come to Varric Tethras first. I’ll be sure to give you a fair cut of the profits.” He winked.

Despite himself, he chuckled. “My name is Solas.” He inclined his head, in greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Solas. You know this one? Not that you all know each other. I know how _that_ goes, humans always think I know every dwarf they see.” Varric rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have explain to them I live on the surface, I don’t know anyone under ground. Except maybe by letters.”

“I do not know her. I am not Dalish. And that is the extent of our knowledge of her, in fact.”

“Right, the tattoos. Always thought those looked kind of neat, myself. Daisy has some, different pattern though.” Varric’s expression sobered as he looked at the woman. “Do you think she’ll ever wake up?” he asked quietly.

Solas shook his head, not in denial but at a loss for a ready answer. “Her body and mind have been through a horrific trauma. It is trying to repair itself, and deal with the invasion of the power in her hand. There are few better medicines than sleep, for these kinds of injuries that healing magics cannot touch.”

Varric nodded. “Well, thanks for helping her. That’s a good thing you're doing. And at no small risk to yourself.”

“I. . .don’t think anyone has thanked me yet,” he replied. “I appreciate that.”

“I’m sure she will, when she wakes.” Varric nodded towards the sleeping figure. “I appreciate helpers. My best friend is a helper. She kind of can’t help it, really. It gets her into all kinds of trouble but I love her for it.” Varric said, smiling fondly.

Solas looked at the dwarf with renewed interest. He was handsome, he supposed, for his kind. Taller than most of them and broad-shouldered. He had scars on his ruddy face, signs of battles faced and won. Or lost, possibly.

His choice of clothing left something to be desired, though. Solas himself could’ve done with seeing less chest hair, personally.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to help,” he said, quietly. “It is why I seek out knowledge. If something I learn could help someone, then I wish to be ready to do so.” He looked back at the woman. “All life is precious, and if one can be saved by my efforts, then I can do nothing less.”

Varric hummed in approval. “Well, Chuckles, it looks like a lot of people will be needing a lot of help, the way things are going.”

Solas arched a brow at him. “’Chuckles’?”

Varric laughed and slapped Solas’ knee. “Yeah, on account of how humorous you are.” He winked again.

Solas shook his head and checked the woman’s hand again.

Wait. _The least he could do . . ._ There _was_ something he hadn’t tried. It was a risk, but it could stabilize the injury well enough to let her live with it, for a time at least.

Varric saw the shift in his expression and said, “Well that’s my cue to head back up. Holler if you need anything.”

Solas barely looked up as the dwarf left.

He’d put up barriers, permanent wards of a sort, around the locus of power in her hand. That had kept it from spreading rapidly and consuming her from the inside out. But he may be able to stabilize it further. If he could focus, draw a little of the power into himself (it belonged to him, after all), he might be able to shrink it, a bit, and make it more manageable for her mortal form to tolerate.

But take too much, and it would kill her.

Take even more than too much, and he would take her soul as well. _That_ would not be expedient.

But he had to try, at least.

Solas focused his will, his intent, and laid down to sleep.

****

The Dreaming came readily to him, a ghostly reflection of the Waking.

(It was still so _strange_ they were separate. But, that was his fault, wasn’t it?)

He was still in the basement of the chantry, though the walls and floors had taken on that wispy, nebulous quality that he was accustomed to. He focused on the woman.

She was not wispy, not in the slightest. Her Dreaming form was limed in glowing green, brightest around the anchor in her palm. The light pulsed there, in time with her (his?) heartbeat. It cast her features into sharp relief, a negative picture of her appearance in the Waking. Her spirit was not present in the Dreaming nearby, thankfully; that would have been a lot of time wasted on explanations he did not want to get into.

His Dreaming form took up her left hand. The power flared in response to his touch, it pulsing rhythm increasing in tempo. It recognized him, wanted to come back into him, wanted _out_ of this flesh prison, wanted to expand, grow, learn, _consume_.

“Hello,” he said softly. “You must stay for now, while I find a safer way for you to return.”

The light dimmed as he spoke, the reaction somehow communicating annoyance.

Solas chuckled. “Patience. We must always, forever, have patience.”

He closed his eyes and focused his intent. Only a little, he needing to take only a little, enough to make it fit in her, nothing more.

Nothing of hers.

Tendrils of green light snaked up around his Dreaming fingers, winding their way up his arm and across his chest, into his heart. He gasped, though not in pain. When he had roused from his slumber, he had found his senses dulled and sluggish, as if his nerves were encased in cotton. Even this tiny fraction of his power returned removed some of that dullness, making it easier to breathe, easier to see and feel and _think_.

He could take it all and feel even better. He could. Nothing would stop him. Then he could leave, locate the rest of it. Finish what he started.

_No, I must not!_

But why, again?

The woman’s mortal form stirred as the power drained from her, and she whimpered. He could hear the pitiful sound even as he walked the Dreaming.

Oh, yes. That was why. She was one of the People. She should be saved, not sacrificed to his selfishness. To his impatience. To his greed.

To his Pride.

He pulled back from the power, severing the tethers between himself and the anchor. It still glowed, but not as brightly, and in a more coherent pattern than before. Good. That should help.

He stayed in the Dreaming, watching over her until she woke up.


	2. Ellana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up right as the last chapter ended, nearly, as Lavellan wakes up.

Everything hurt.

 _Everything_.

She had known pain before. Injuries from hunts, burns sometimes when her magic got out of hand. But nothing had prepared her for this. It was as if her mind was on fire, as well as her body. Her left hand pulsed with pain in time with her heartbeats. She groaned, stifling a whimper. Somehow in the back of her mind she remembered she was around the shemlen. It would be dangerous to appear weak.

The shemlen. Their conclave. She had been there, and then…what had happened? It was blurry, then blackness.

She shook her head, huffed out a breath as the movement caused renewed spikes of pain to shoot through her. She tried to lift her hand – the right, uninjured one – to her face, to rub at her eyes. Her arm felt like it was tied to the surface she was lying on. It wasn’t, but it might as well have been for all she was able to lift it.

She concentrated and tried again. This time her arm responded to her command, although slowly.

She was barely aware of people nearby shouting. She scowled in irritation. Did they not care she had a splitting headache? Not that “headache” was an adequate word for what she was feeling, but still.

Then hands were upon her, rough and insistent. Pulling her up into a sitting position, fastening her wrists into manacles.

_What?_

She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a croak. She licked her lips and tried again.

“What is happening? What’s wrong with me?” her voice was raspy from disuse. How long had she been unconscious?

One of the men fastening her into the manacles looked into her eyes and must have seen her confusion. His expression softened.

“Alain, grab some water,” he said to the other man.

‘Alain’ complied and held a tin cup to her lips. She drank a few sips, slowly.

“ _Ma serannas_ ,” she said, gratefully. “Where am I?”

The first guard answered her. “You don’t remember?”

She frowned and tried to think. It was still difficult. “I was…at the conclave. In Haven?”

He nodded. “You’re in the Chantry now. But still in Haven, yes.”

“Why are you keeping me prisoner?” she demanded.

A flash of genuine fear passed through his features, seemingly reminding him of what he was supposed to be doing. His voice hardened. “You’re needed for questioning by the Hands of the Divine. They are on their way now. Do not try to escape.”

She gaped at him but did not try to get up. She wasn’t sure if she would’ve been able to, in any case. She assessed her surroundings while she waited. She was in a middling-size room, with floors and walls constructed with dark grey stone. She was underground, she thought; there were no windows. She was seated on a simple cot in the center of the room. No one else was there, besides the two guards who now stood by the door, watching her.

She studied them for a moment. One was older, with a dark, lined face and grey peppered in his rough beard. The other one, Alain, was younger by far, smooth pale cheeks and fearful eyes that dared not meet hers for a second. The guards were dressed in browns and greens, but the uniforms were not ones Ellana recognized. Not Chantry or Templars, maybe the Divine’s personal guard? He had mentioned the Hands of the Divine. Ellana knew from her studies that there was usually a Right Hand, an enforcer, and a Left Hand, who was more like an intelligence officer or a spy. But what would either of them want with a Dalish elf?

 _Pain_ erupted in her hand, interrupting her speculations. She heard a strange crackling noise. She looked down and gasped when she saw the green light glowing from her palm.

“What,” she panted, “the _fuck.”_

She thought she heard one of the guards shift, as if to come towards her, and then thought better of it.

What was that, and where did it come from? Why did it hurt so _badly?_ Why couldn’t she remember anything at all?

The door to the basement opened with a bang and a woman strode in. She was heavily armored, with short dark hair cropped close to her skull, the only embellishment a small braid wrapped around the crown of her head. Her chest plate was etched with a symbol she recognized, a stylized sunburst with an open eye inscribed in the center. This must be the Seeker.

“What is your name?” the Seeker asked in heavily accented common. The other two guards backed off and stood at attention near the door.

Starting with the basics, then. Probably wise since she couldn’t remember much else. “My name is Ellana, of the Dalish clan Lavellan.”

“What were you doing at the Divine Conclave?”

“Observing.”

“Observing?”

“Yes. The Dalish have no real interest in your shemlen politics, but we must protect ourselves. I was sent by my Keeper to see what happened and report back.” Ellana lifted her hands as much as she was able with the heavy manacles. “Why am I a prisoner? Was it a crime to observe?”

The Seeker’s expression darkened. She grabbed Ellana’s left hand. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

“What?”

“Explain this.” The Seeker jerked Ellana’s left hand up to her face.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or won’t?”

“I don’t know what it even is, or how it got there!” Ellana yanked her hand out of the Seeker’s grasp. “And I am not answering anything else until you tell me what is going on! Or let me go.” _Worth a shot._

The Seeker stood and paced around her. “The Most Holy, Divine Justinia, is dead. Everyone who attended the Conclave is dead.” She stopped and stared at Ellana. “Except for _you_.”

Ellana gaped at her. “ _What?_ What do you mean, dead? How?”

The Seeker snarled and lunged forward, grabbing Ellana’s leather jerkin, and pulling her off the ground. “You tell me! You are the only witness!”

Another woman appeared, apparently having slipped into the room without being noticed. She inserted herself between the Seeker and Ellana and pulled the Seeker back. Ellana sank back down to the ground, gasping as she landed. The crackling began again and her left hand ached. She groaned and doubled over.

“We need her, Cassandra,” the new woman said quietly. Her voice had the lilting, susurrant quality of Orlesian nobility. Ellana couldn’t see much of her face due to the heavy dark hood the woman wore, but what she could see was beautiful. And angry.

The Seeker – Cassandra, apparently – sighed. She relaxed her stance, just a bit. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will show her.”

The new woman nodded once and left. The Seeker turned back to Ellana.

“Come with me. It will be easier to show you, rather than trying to explain.” The Seeker lifted Ellana to her feet, less roughly this time but still not exactly gentle. She led her out of the basement and walked toward the Chantry’s large double doors, gesturing for the guards stationed there to open them.

It was daytime, Ellana could tell that much, but the light that spilled into the dim Chantry was _wrong._ It had a cold, sickly quality that chilled Ellana to her bones. She followed Cassandra outside, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. She shaded her eyes with her bound hands and looked up.

“What…the _fuck_.”

There was a hole. In the sky. A massive tear, larger than even the tallest of the Frostback Mountains surrounding the valley. It glowed and pulsed with the same green light that was coming from the wound in her hand. Cassandra began speaking but Ellana barely heard her.

“We are calling it the Breach. As best as we can tell, it is a massive tear in the Veil, into the Fade. You are a mage, so you know what that means.” Cassandra turned to her. “Demons.”

Ellana continued to stare at it, her mind reeling as it tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The Seeker was right about one thing; this would’ve been difficult to explain.

“Where did – gah!” The mark on her hand flared, and her question was cut off as screamed, unable to contain her reaction to the surge of pain this time. Ellana fell to her knees again. She focused on her breathing, trying to focus through the agony.

Cassandra knelt at her side, reaching out her hands to support her. “Are you alright?”

“Not really,” Ellana replied through clenched teeth. “But I’ll make it. Maybe.” _Who knows?_

“The Breach is growing, and each time it does your mark spreads, as well. We have a theory on how to stop it, but we need your cooperation to try.” The Seeker’s voice was urgent now, pleading even.

Ellana let out a deep breath in a rush. “You think I can help?” she asked Cassandra.

The Seeker shrugged. “Only the Maker knows. I pray that you can. We do not have anything else we can try.”

Ellana met her gaze, considering. She was bound, imprisoned by shemlen. Chantry shemlen, no less. She was certain if it wasn’t for this mark on her hand, she’d be dead already. The Seeker was not exactly an endearing figure, but Ellana recognized a devotion to duty and a righteous fervor fueling a need to _protect_ in her. She felt the same way when she thought about her clan, and her duties as First.

Ellana didn’t trust shemlen, but she could trust that this Seeker would always do what she felt was her duty. It would do no one any good for her to lie to Ellana right now.

She nodded, decision made. “I will help, if I can.”

The Seekers eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Truly?”

“However I can. You have my word.”

Cassandra reached over and helped her to her feet. She pulled out a dagger from her boot and cut the bonds that had replaced the manacles. Ellana rubbed her wrists in relief. They hadn’t been cruel but being bound for any length of time was uncomfortable.

“So, what do you need me to do?” She looked down at herself for the first time since she’d awoken in the basement. They’d let her keep her armor, at least. Her staff had been taken, though. An understandable precaution, but that would make getting through what sounded like a demon-infested valley a little harder.

“We have to get closer to the Breach. And locate Solas, so he can tell you what you need to do. Stay close to me,” Cassandra warned.

Closer? To that? Ellana shuddered. But that made sense. If her mark was connected to it, then whatever power she might be able to use to fix things would probably be made stronger by proximity to the source. She focused on logic, trying to use her knowledge to puzzle out what was happening. She knew magic, knew how it worked, how it didn’t work. Or how it wasn’t supposed to work, anyway. And this was very strange magic, but it was still magic, nonetheless.

She hadn’t met a magic she couldn’t figure out, yet. She nodded at Cassandra. “Lead the way.”

**

They traveled through the valley for several minutes, wending their way through hastily constructed barricades and around piles of rubble and stone. Cassandra helped her stumble along when the pain from the mark flared beyond Ellana’s ability to bear. The woman hadn’t seemed endearing, at first, but she was growing surprisingly gentler where she touched Ellana, steady rather than insistent or forceful. Ellana appreciated the shift in focus. Maybe she could win this woman’s favor, and thus her protection? It couldn’t hurt to try.

“So, what _do_ you know about what happened to me? Anything?” she asked as they marched down a gravel path in front of a barricade.

“They say you stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. Some have said they saw a woman in the rift behind you, though they can’t say who it was,” Cassandra replied. “We were hoping you would have more information.”

“I am sorry, I can’t remember any of that.”

Cassandra nodded. “I believe you. Maybe you will remember more in the days to come. It does not matter much, now.”

She tensed as an otherworldly shriek echoed around them. “Demon!” the Seeker shouted, drawing her blade. “Stay behind me!” An amorphous mass of shadow and tattered rags ( _shade demon,_ the logical voice in the back of her mind recalled) raced towards them. It grew claws and attempted to rake them down the Seeker’s face. Cassandra shoved it back with her shield and thrust her blade into the mass. It shrieked again in pain and renewed its assault. Cassandra was doing well holding that one off, but Ellana spotted another mass approaching from Cassandra’s flank.

Ellana cast about for something, anything she could use as a focus for her magic. She had practiced casting without a staff or a focus, but she was never any good at it. _There_! Leaning against a crate of supplies was a simple wooden staff, with a blade affixed to one end. Not ideal, but it would do for now.

She stumbled over and grabbed the staff, pouring her will and intent into it. A burst of flame exploded from the tip of the staff and knocked the second shade back from Cassandra. It shrieked and turned on her. Ellana focused, bringing up her will to create a shimmering barrier between her and the creature, just in time to deflect the sharp claws away from piercing her flesh. She held out both hands and focused on the ground beneath the shade. A circle of fiery runes appeared, and the creature burst into flames fully this time. The fire ate away at the rags until there was only ashes left, and the shadow dispersed with a final wail. Through the cloud of ash and smoke she saw Cassandra behead the creature she was fighting, and it too dissipated into a cloud of ash on the wind.

Cassandra looked up and her satisfied smile at her victory dropped, her expression hardening with fury. She pointed her sword at Ellana. “Drop that weapon, now.”

Ellana raised both her hands in a gesture of surrender but kept her grip on the staff. “ _Ir abelas,_ Seeker. I was protecting myself; I mean you no harm.” Then, before she could stop herself: “Besides, I don’t really need a staff to be dangerous, you know.” _Shit. Good going, Ellana._ That wouldn’t do much to win the Seeker over.

To her surprise, Cassandra relented. She sheathed her sword with a sigh. “You are right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot ask you to be defenseless. Let’s go.”

Ellana decided she rather liked this woman. For a shemlen.

**

They continued forward, fighting more demons as they appeared. Ellana noted that some of them appeared to be just roaming, directionless, as if they did not understand where they were or how they got there.

_That makes two of us, buddy._

Other demons fell from the Breach directly, landing in front of them and immediately attacking. From what she knew of such things, demons were spirits pulled across the Veil by force. Knowing that made her a bit pained each time they ended one. Who knows how many centuries of knowledge, experiences she was wiping out with each spell she slung from her staff? She shook it off. There was nothing she could do for them now, except get to the Breach as quickly as possible so she could possibly stop whatever was yanking these unfortunate beings through.

“We are almost there!” Cassandra called back to her over the shrieks of yet another shade demon. “I can hear them fighting ahead!”

Ellana kicked her own shade off the blade of her staff and grunted as she focused. More fire burst out of the creature’s eyes and mouth – or where those would have been on a person, anyway – and the demon died screaming. “Who is fighting?” she yelled back.

“You’ll see!” Cassandra dashed ahead, neither the steep angle of the path nor her heavy armor slowing her in the slightest. Ellana followed, panting. Between the pain, the physical exertion, and the sheer chaos of it all, she was exhausted.

Which was saying a lot, considering she’d apparently just awoken from a two-day nap.

They crested the hill – finally – and Ellana could see a group of soldiers in the same uniforms as the guards had worn fighting a large group of demons that were pouring out of what looked like a smaller version of the Breach. The shimmering green fold in the Veil hovered a few feet above the ground, spewing forth creatures at a rapid pace. Ellana grasped her wrist as the mark on her hand crackled with pain again as they drew closer to the tear. The soldiers were holding their own, thanks in no small part to two individuals who weren’t in uniform.

One was a dwarf, standing in a steady wide-legged stance as he fired a very elaborate looking crossbow at the demons from a distance. He managed to take out three of them with one shot, lining them up before punching a bolt straight through their heads. He whooped as the demons dissolved into smoke and ash.

The other was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, who was wielding a staff with considerable skill. His movements were graceful yet efficient, allowing him to strike one of the demons with the blunt end of his staff while he focused his will to freeze another solid. Ellana took an involuntary step forward, fascinated.

Another mage! And another elf judging by his features. Was he from another clan? No vallaslin markings, though. How _interesting_. Circle mage, possibly? Any elf in an alienage who showed an aptitude for magic would have been taken in immediately –

Cassandra leapt into the fray, smashing and slashing in a furor of movement that took out several more demons. She looked back to where Ellana was standing, just staring.

“Lavellan! What are you doing?”

Ellana flinched, realizing she had been just standing there doing nothing. She reached out with her will and laid down runes under two of the demons, who were nearly immediately engulfed in an inferno. She looked at the Seeker sheepishly.

“ _Ir abelas_! Got distracted,” she apologized.

Cassandra snorted. “Focus, please. Your life – all our lives – may depend on it.” She turned to attack again and found that the rest of the demons had been eliminated or fled. She lowered her sword, with only a hint of disappointment on her face.

The elf rushed to her side and grabbed her wrist.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Ellana shouted, trying to tug out of his grasp.

“Quickly! Before more come through!” He shoved her hand at the tear. Ellana tried to resist but he was stronger than he looked. Then she nearly blacked out again from the pain as the mark flared with power. A band of emerald light shot out and connected to the tear, tugging her closer. She dug in her heels as the power _tugged_ at her whole being, threatening to drag her into the fold. The elf put his free hand around her waist, grounding her.

“Focus, use the power to mend the rift,” he said into her ear.

 _Oh, right._ Now his behavior was starting to make sense. Ellana gritted her teeth and focused past the pain, studying the rift, looking at the edges and _willing_ them to knit together. To her surprise it worked. The rift began to shrink, power humming at an increasing volume that started to make her eyes water. And then, by instinct, she knew she needed to _pull_. So she did, yanking her wrist backwards, severing the tendril of power connecting her to the rift. It shrank in on itself with a loud rushing noise and disappeared.

Ellana looked down at her hand. “Ow.” She sagged, and fell back against the elf, who was still holding her waist. Had she not been so exhausted, she might have felt awkward at his proximity. As it was, she was just grateful for the support.

He moved back immediately, releasing her and giving her space, but reached out a hand to steady her as she swayed on her feet. “My apologies, we needed to act quickly.”

Ellana nodded, staring down at her hand again. “ _Da’rahn_ , don’t worry about it,” she said, distracted by mentally dissecting what had just happened. She looked up at the elf. His face and head were smooth and unmarked, so she’d been right about his not being Dalish. He was rather unremarkable. Neither handsome nor ugly, only a little taller than average, and dressed in nondescript but practical clothing that insulated him from the cold mountain air. She thought he should consider adding a hat or something, though, as the bare skin on his head was turning pink from the wind and the cold.

He returned her gaze with neutral friendliness. “ _An'daran Atish'an_ ,” he greeted her formally. His eyes were a curious shade of grey blue.

“ _An'eth'ara_ ,” she returned, using the less formal reply to put him at ease. Not a city elf then. Probably. She’d never met a city elf who had learned the Dalish greetings, anyway. “How did you know to do that?”

He smiled at her question. “I had a theory that the magic that created the Breach – and the rifts, by extension – also placed that mark upon your hand.”

Ellana nodded. “Makes sense. They feel connected, certainly.”

“I theorized that it could be used to seal the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake,” he continued. “It seems I was correct.”

“Which means I might actually be able to seal the Breach!” Ellana interrupted, putting the pieces together before he could finish.

His smile widened and he nodded. “Possibly. It seems you may hold the key to our salvation.” He ducked his head and twisted his hands, suddenly shy.

_Well, that’s odd for someone who grabbed me by the waist two seconds ago._

Cassandra, who had been following this exchange, sighed with relief as she sheathed her sword. “Thank the Maker.”

The soldiers started securing the area around them, moving the wounded back behind the barricades and setting up perimeters and other military things Ellana was sure would be helpful. The dwarf sauntered over, shouldering his crossbow as he approached.

“Glad you woke up. Thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.”

Ellana looked down at her hand again and wiggled her fingers. The pain was subsiding now that she wasn’t close to an active rift. “No kidding. Lucky this thing is useful after all. Instead of just hurting like a bitch.”

The dwarf snorted. “I bet. Varric Tethras, at your service. Merchant, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra as he said that last. She scowled.

Ellana smiled at him. “Nice to meet you. I get the feeling you aren’t with …the Chantry?” she ventured. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure who was in charge of things at the moment.

The elf laughed. “Was that a serious question?”

Ellana grinned. “Not really.”

Cassandra cut in. “He is… with me, I suppose.” Her face looked like it physically pained her to say that.

Ellana nodded as if that made sense.

“I brought him here to tell his story to the Divine,” Cassandra clarified. “Clearly, that is no longer necessary.”

“Unless you want me to go into the Fade or the afterlife or whatever and tell her there, not really.”

“Have a care, dwarf. I will not brook disrespect to the Most Holy.”

Varric raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry, just making conversation.”

“Well, thank you for your help, anyway,” Ellana cut in. “I’m sure your skills will be useful.”

The elf gave a short derisive laugh. “You may reconsider that stance, in time.”

“You wound me, Chuckles! I thought we were getting along famously.” Varric held one hand over his heart in mock distress. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of chances to save your ass in the valley. You’ll like me better then, I bet.”

Ellana looked between them, amused.

“Absolutely not, Varric,” Cassandra all but shouted. “You are not – “

“Have you even been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your men are getting their asses handed to them. You need me.”

They glared at each other. Ellana and the elf exchanged an awkward glance as the silence dragged on.

“Ugh, fine.” Cassandra relented, throwing her hands up. “Do not make me regret this.”

The elf cleared his throat. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.”

“Ellana, of the Dalish clan Lavellan.”

The elf – Solas – smiled again. “It is nice to meet you, in truth.”

“He means, ‘I watched over you while you slept,’” Varric quipped. “Not in a creepy way, though, in his defense. He was helping.”

Ellana frowned. “You are a healer?” she asked Solas.

“Not as such, no.”

“Don’t be so humble, Chuckles. None of us are buying it.” Varric rolled his eyes. “He kept that …thing from killing you while you slept.”

“Oh.” Ellana wiggled her fingers again, testing their range of motion. The mark was sore, but it was bearable. She looked up at Solas again. “ _Ma serannas_.” She pursed her lips. “Well that seems woefully inadequate, but it’s all I’ve got.”

Solas chuckled. She noticed his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. “ _Sathem lasa halani_ ,” he replied, making a small bow.

Ellana shook her head. “You seem to know more of our language than I do. You lost me.”

“I am pleased to have helped,” Solas clarified.

“Where did you learn elvhen? Can you teach me? Do you have a book? Or can you make notes I can take back to my Keeper?” The questions tumbled out of her in a rush.

Cassandra took her elbow, not rough but insistent. “We have little time. Perhaps you can take notes _later_ , after we seal the Breach?”

“Oh, yes of course, my apologies. Lead on, Seeker.” Ellana attempted to look sufficiently abashed, which seemed to mollify Cassandra a bit. Ellana looked back and caught Solas’ eye again though, who nodded agreement. Ellana beamed at him. Maybe she would get something useful out of all this mess, after all.


	3. Ellana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What we have missed: Lavellan and Co. continue their trek to the Temple, fight the Pride demon, and test the mark-can-close-the-Breach theory, with mixed results. Lavellan gets knocked out (again), wakes up in Haven, and goes to the Chantry to meet Cassandra and the advisors.

“They are calling me _what?”_

Leliana cleared her throat. “It is unusual but could be turned to our advantage.”

Ellana waved a finger in front her face, pointing at her vallaslin and her ears. “Do they know I’m Dalish? I don’t even believe in Andraste as more than an historical figure! Most of my people wouldn’t have even read the Chant.” She paused. “I have, but that’s not the point.”

“You’ve read the Chant of Light?” Josephine exclaimed, her face incredulous. “What did you think of --”

“Later, Josie,” Leliana cut in. She turned back to Ellana. “Regardless of what you believe, we have to recognize that this presents us with opportunities.”

Cullen looked at her bemusedly. “’Herald of Andraste’ is quite a title.”

Ellana cut her hand through the air in a sharp gesture of denial. “I am no ‘herald’ of anything. Particularly _not_ Andraste.”

“Well, the Chantry would certainly agree with you there,” he nodded.

“We must have their support if we are to get this Inquisition off the ground,” Josephine stated. “That some of the people see you, a Dalish elf, as the Herald means we are starting one step behind already.”

Ellana glanced at Cassandra, who had remained silent but at her side through this discussion. Her steady presence was a comfort. Cassandra met her gaze and raised one eyebrow but remained quiet.

Leliana continued. “My contacts have passed along a message from a Chantry sister who wishes to meet you.”

“Is she going to kill me?”

Leliana frowned. “I have no reason to believe so. Her name is Mother Giselle. I know of her. She has a reputation as a kind and measured woman, not given to fanaticism.”

“Why does she want to meet me?”

“The message did not say. But, if we can sway her to our side, she could do much to help repair relations with the clergy at large.”

Ellana hesitated. “I want to help, but meeting a mysterious Sister in an as-yet-undisclosed location sounds very risky.”

“I will go with you,” Cassandra broke her silence. “You should not meet her alone.”

“She is in the Ferelden Hinterlands,” Leliana offered helpfully. “Tending to the wounded near Redcliffe. It is a populated area, so if she did mean to kill you, there would be plenty of witnesses to stay her hand.”

Ellana looked to Cassandra again. The other woman nodded once, her gaze reassuring. “I will see you come to no harm, Ellana. We should see what she has to say, at least.”

“Alright. If you think this is the best way forward, I will do it,” Ellana decided.

Leliana inclined her head in acknowledgment. “I will let you know when my scouts have secured a forward camp near her position. Get some rest, in the meantime.”

“Do I look that bad?”

“I’ll have someone set up a bath for you immediately,” Josephine assured her.

“Well, that tells me everything I need to know, thanks,” Ellana grinned to lessen the sting of her sarcasm.

“You have had many more pressing concerns,” Josephine allowed with an air of graciousness. “But for your first official meeting as a member of the Inquisition, appearances will be important.”

“Speaking of which, you should speak to our blacksmith, just outside Haven’s walls,” Cullen added. “You’ll need better gear if you are going to the Hinterlands.”

Ellana narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with my gear?”

He was taken aback at that. “I meant no offense, only --”

“Only my Dalish garments couldn’t possibly compare to the quality of your human craftsmanship,” Ellana finished for him.

“That...is not what I meant,” Cullen replied, but he looked a little sheepish. “Of course, wear whatever you are most comfortable with.”

“If I might,” Josephine interrupted gently. “Appearing in Dalish dress may give the impression that you are representing yourself or your clan, not the Inquisition.”

“No,” Ellana said firmly. “I will do whatever I can to help with the Breach. But that is where I draw the line. I am First in my clan. These are more than ‘gear’, they are a mark of my status and the work I have done. They – and you – will have to deal with it.”

Josephine sighed. “As you wish. I will handle it.”

“Thank you,” Ellana said pointedly. “If there is nothing else?”

“Nothing,” Josephine replied. “I think we all have enough to be getting on with, for the time being.” The others began to leave to see to their various tasks. Josephine hesitated. “I know we only just met, Mistress Lavellan --”

Ellana winced. “Please, Ellana is fine.”

“Ellana,” Josephine amended. She drew Ellana to the side as the others left the room. “I wanted to ask how you were feeling? It has been a trying few days for all of us, but you especially.”

The genuine concern was so evident on the woman’s face that Ellana’s frustration dissipated. “I am... not fine, exactly. But I am still here,” she answered honestly.

“I suppose that is pretty good, all things considered,” Josephine said. “If I can do anything to make you more comfortable or put you at ease, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“Can you make it spring?” Ellana joked. “All the snow and wind is not helpful.”

Josephine laughed. “It is very cold in Haven, to be sure. Alas, the weather is not an individual I can ply with compliments until it does what I want.”

“Seriously, though, _ma serannas_. No one has really asked me how I am feeling. This is all a bit overwhelming.”

Josephine patted her arm. “Of course, Mis—Ellana.” She took up her writing board and quill briskly. “Now if you will excuse me, I must mollify the Marquis du Rellion before he starts _another_ continental war.” She swept out of the room, air of diplomatic politeness firmly back in place.

Ellana was left alone with the large table which appeared to have been assembled by pushing together two separate tables from other rooms. It was littered with maps, notes, and other errata that indicated that important people did important work in here. The central map spread fully on the table showed the whole continent of Thedas, from the Western Approach to the Amaranthine coasts in the east. This was all so _enormous,_ more monumental than anything she’d anticipated dealing with in her life even after she became Keeper. She felt as tiny as the bronze figurines on the map Cullen was using to mark important locations. There was one in the northeast of the Free Marches, a tiny eagle, wings spread as if in flight. It was positioned nearly exactly where her clan had been camped when she left. That was interesting; she’d have to ask him about that later.

Ellana picked up the tiny eagle with one hand and studied it, pressing the fingers of her other hand to the map at the place it had marked. She missed her clan. She missed her friends, and her stomach twisted with grief remembering the two who were with her at the conclave. They came to help her and protect her, and now they were gone. And she was still here. Were the rest of her clan safe back in the Free Marches? Would the war and the danger of the Breach reach them too?

She put the eagle back in its place with a sigh, missing the days when she could while away hours studying tomes bought from shem merchants who braved the hike to their camp to trade. When the worst thing she had to fear was Keeper Deshanna’s disapproving glare.

She looked at the map again. Those days were long gone, it seemed. Now all Thedas was depending on her. How had she gotten into this mess?

 _Speaking of messes_ , she thought ruefully, looking down at herself. Well, that was one problem she could solve easily, at least.

****

The bath Josephine had conjured – out of thin air, it seemed – was a large steel tub that servants (whose servants? she wondered) had set up in the little house that she had woken up in. Apparently, that was to be her space, for now. She could see runes inscribed on the side of the tub glowing with a soft red light as the water was poured. The fire had been stoked while she had been meeting with the Inquisition’s leaders, its light making the room feel cozy rather than just small.

Ellana sighed and started removing the outer layers of her clothing, placing each gently on the bed as she did so. They were pretty filthy; trudging through the Fade, falling out of the Fade into the dirt, spending three days in a basement, and then battling a Pride demon all _before_ repairing a hole in the sky would do that to you, she supposed. She almost laughed thinking about how many absurd things had happened to her in the last three days.

Her outer coat had taken the brunt of it, the swirling embroidery her mother had spent months working on marred by grime and … other things. She laid her hand on the stitching, remembering how proud her mother’s face had looked the day she’d been named First, as she had placed the mantle on Ellana’s shoulders. A small sob escaped her, unbidden.

The plump human woman filling the tub tutted and came over to inspect the garment. “Not to worry, mistress!” she said reassuringly. “I know how to get rid of any stain, I'll put this right as rain, sure.”

Ellana pushed back the lump in her throat and smiled at her. “Thank you, it is very precious to me.”

“I can tell,” the woman replied. She patted Ellana’s arm. “You just have a rest, and I'll take care of it. Least I can do, my son was one of the scouts you rescued, up in the mountains.”

“Oh, really? I am glad we got to them in time.” Ellana paused. “Too many were lost that day. It’s nice to know I made a difference for at least one family.”

On impulse, Ellana hugged the woman, who huffed in surprise and then returned it. “There, there, dearie. You’ll be alright.”

She sounded nothing like Ellana’s mother, but her tone and intention were so overwhelmingly familiar Ellana lost control and started sobbing. The woman let her cry into her shoulder, continuing to hold her and rubbing her back while repeating inane comforting phrases. Eventually, Ellana subsided into sniffles and pulled away, embarrassed.

“ _Ir abelas_ , I mean, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have,” she started but the woman waved her hand.

“Think nothing of it, dearie,” she said. “You’re only ...er, elf-in?”

Ellana laughed and rubbed at her eyes. “Close, actually. We call ourselves the _elvhen_ , the People.”

“Well, whatever you call yourself, you’re just one woman. It’s okay to let it out sometimes.” She gathered up Ellana’s clothing and folded it carefully before putting it in the bucket she had used for the bathwater. “I’ll see to this. You’ve got a clean shift on the bed, and soap and things just there --” she nodded at the table next to the tub, “-- and I'll bring these back when I'm done.” She hefted the bucket up to one hip in a practiced motion.

“Thank you, so much.”

The woman winked at her. “Not a trouble at all, mistress.” She left, closing the door gently behind her.

Ellana peeled off her probably-now-ruined shift and stepped into the tub. She sighed in relief as she sank beneath the hot water, properly warmed for the first time in weeks. Reaching her hand back, she felt her hair and groaned. It was tangled beyond belief. No wonder the others had made polite comments.

She cast about for anything that could help her unravel the mess on her head and spied a hairbrush on the nightstand next to the bed. Smiling, she rose quickly out of the bath and snatched it before sinking back down up to her chin. That woman was a treasure, she had thought of everything. She would have to get her name and recommend her to Josephine.

Her hair sufficiently untangled and taken down from its braids, Ellana took a breath and dunked fully underneath the surface of the water, content for now to solve one problem at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, comments welcome! <3


	4. Solas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first bit of this chapter technically is out of order, and happens while Lavellan is unconscious the second time. I thought it was too short to post on its own so it is appended here. :) The second bit happens after Lavellan meets with the advisors.

_So, here we are again_.

He looked over her sleeping form, satisfied to see that it appeared she was resting more peacefully than the first time, at least. Whether that was from his ministrations or the fact that Cassandra had insisted she be given an actual bed this time, he was not sure. Probably both.

He was grateful he knew her name now. _Ellana_. “She Who Could Do Anything”, in his language, a piece that the Dalish had managed to preserve. He wondered if they had kept the meaning, or just the name. He filed that question away for later.

Either way, it was a fitting name for her from what he had seen. She had shown incredible bravery, and a rather surprising amount of intellect. Since Waking his interactions with the Dalish had proven that they were a mulish and ignorant lot, a walking contradiction of fear of the unknown and the thirst for any scraps of lost knowledge they could scrummage from the rubbish heap of history. When he had tried to serve them an actual meal, they had turned up their noses at the feast, too accustomed to the flavor of the refuse they had been sustaining themselves with for centuries to accept any change.

They were a shadow of the People he had known, tethered to the former glory of elvhenan by the thinnest threads of blood and a few remembered words. His grief at the loss of everything he had built was multiplied tenfold with that realization.

It had also steeled his resolve. There was little to recommend this new world, next to nothing he would consider worthy of saving.

And yet.

A chief lesson he had learned repeatedly in his long life was that individuals were not necessarily a reflection of the organizations they comprised. Organizations were infinitely and inevitably corruptible. An individual, however, especially one with sufficient strength of character and sense of self, could remain unsullied. They were rare, to be sure, but he had met enough to know that they certainly could exist even in this blighted world in which he found himself.

His instincts told him Cassandra was one such individual. Ellana may well be another. It remained to be seen.

And there, against his better judgment, a spark of hope flared in his heart. Unfamiliar, long lost, sweet, and yet tinged with bitter reservations lest he be mistaken yet again. He would have a chance to see, in the days to come. She could live up to her name, surprise him, and then he would have to reconsider.

He shook his head. No. Even if she was remarkable, he could not weigh one life against the whole world, his entire civilization, and find it worth more. Terrible, despicable, detestable calculus of war, but the truth was often terrible. He placed that spark of hope in a box and pushed it to the furthest reaches of his mind. It would not do to dwell on what might be, even if a part of him wanted to believe he was wrong.

Ellana shifted in her sleep and he looked up quickly, checking for signs of danger. To his relief, she was smiling softly; whatever visions the Dreaming was giving her must be pleasant. Her hair was still a mess, he noted with a small grin. He made a note to leave a hairbrush near the bedside for when she woke.

**

He was standing near the door to the small building he had claimed as his own in Haven when she approached. He continued to gaze at the sky, pretending to contemplate the Breach as he watched her walk closer from the corner of his eye.

She had made use of the hairbrush, he noted. Her hair was not as dark as he had thought at first, and gleamed red in the sunlight. She walked with confidence, even among the Chantry forces gathered here who could turn on her at any moment.

“ _On dhea_ , Ellana Lavellan,” he greeted her, turning to face her as she walked up.

“ _An'eth'ara,”_ she returned. She held up her marked hand in his face. “What is it? How do you know about it? What put it there? Tell me everything.”

He laughed. “So impatient, one would mistake you for the shemlen.”

A scowl crossed her lovely features, her eyes flashing. “If you have knowledge, I insist you share it. I have to know as much as I can about what I am dealing with.”

“Of course, _ir abelas_ ,” he said, still smiling despite himself. “I appreciate your curiosity. I have a question for you first if you will indulge me.”

Ellana crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Fine.”

“They are calling you the Herald of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all.”

She rolled her eyes. They were deep blue, he noted, like a summer sky at midday. “Am I supposed to ride in on a shining steed, too?”

He grinned. “I would have suggested a griffon, for maximum effect. Sadly, they are extinct.”

“What a shame.” Ellana returned his grin. “So, what was the question?”

“What will you do with your new revered status?”

“I’m not going to suddenly convert to Andrastianism, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I would expect not. Regardless of what you believe, _they_ believe you are chosen, and that belief gives you power. I wonder what kind of hero you will be.”

“The smart one that goes home at the end of the story. I hope.”

He let out an amused huff. “Not exactly an answer, but I will leave it for now.” He looked back at the Breach, growing serious again. “I will stay then. You will need my assistance.”

“Were you going to leave?”

“Staying presents a great risk. I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a war.”

“Cassandra said you get a pass.”

“I trust our Lady Seeker, but the others? No. They see me as dangerous and would kill me without a moment’s pause.”

Ellana scowled again, but not at him this time. “I won’t let them.”

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

He blinked in surprise at the fierceness in her tone. “I believe you would.” He paused. “Thank you.”

She looked confused. “You saved my life. I would be a horrible person if I repaid you by letting you get murdered by shems.”

He laughed. “That is an excellent point.”

Ellana waved her hand again. “So, fess up. What’s going on?”

Solas took her hand gently and examined her palm. “I placed more wards around the mark while you slept. It shouldn’t hurt you so much now.”

“ _Ma serannas_ , it was extremely uncomfortable,” she replied, pulling her hand out of his grip. “Still not answering my question.”

How much information was too much? “I theorize that there was an object of considerable power that caused the explosion, the Breach, and the mark on your hand,” he began slowly. “What that is and how it did, so I am not sure. We would do well to locate this object if we can.”

“You think it survived the explosion?”

He shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance. “You did. Leliana’s people have looked over the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes but found nothing yet.”

“Hmm.” She contemplated for a moment, tapping her fingers against her chin. The gesture, which he would have found insufferable or pretentious on others, was endearing on her. “I haven’t come across anything in my studies that would have _that_ much power. Whatever it is, it’s probably pretty rare. And whoever was trying to use it was very stupid.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, amused. “I assume that the explosion that occurred was not the intended effect.”

“Almost guaranteed it was not. Why blow yourself up? And waste all that magical energy doing so. Like Varric said, there are much easier ways to explode things. That will frustrate everyone more, though, learning that the death of their Divine was just a silly accident.” Ellana rubbed her forehead with her right hand. “I just wish I could remember what happened.”

“Your memories will return, in time. Your mind endured a great deal, it needs time to rest.”

She sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

On impulse, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. “You are doing well, _da’len_.”

“Ha! How do you know?” She smirked at him. “Have you lived through the end of the world before?”

His face grew serious, and he forgot himself. “Yes.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“I mean, I have seen memories of those who witnessed the fall of their civilizations. In the Fade,” he said quickly. “To them, it was like the end of the world.”

She tilted her head, squinting at him. “Oh.” Her face brightened a moment later, that insatiable curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “You keep talking about the Fade. What do you mean, you see memories?”

“Ah, yes. I should probably explain. It is not a common field of study.” He cleared his throat. “I seek out places where things happened and sleep there, entering the Fade to learn what I can. I have journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I have watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.”

Ellana stared at him. “That’s…”

He braced for her rejection.

“… _amazing_!” She breathed, eyes wide in astonishment.

Tension he didn’t realize he was holding in his shoulders eased.

“You must have seen so much! Learned so much! Can you teach me?” she was nearly bouncing in her excitement.

It was…very flattering. She was so _young_. He had forgotten the eagerness that is the luxury of youth. He smiled. “Possibly, if you are interested after the current crisis is resolved.”

Her face fell at the reminder of why they were there. “Right. End of the world.”

“Indeed.” He realized it brought him discomfort to have dampened her enthusiasm.

“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly. “That’s how you know so much elvish, from memories! Right?”

He inclined his head toward her. “Exactly. I converse with spirits, as well, and some of them are old enough to remember elvhenan, the ancient empire of our people.”

“Spirits? They will talk to you? What is that like?”

“Not so different from conversing with people, in fact. Many are eager to share their knowledge, and to learn from me in return.”

“Is that dangerous? The Keeper has always advised to keep away from spirits, especially since I am a mage. Too easy to get possessed.”

“A superstition born of fear, and the observation of the fates of fools who should have known better,” he said. “Most spirits are not interested in the Waking world. They prefer to remain in the Fade, where they are most comfortable.”

“So how come there are so many problems with possession, then?”

“Two reasons. First, there are those who covet the power a spirit contains. Spirits are magical energy, a purpose given form. Some seek to harness that energy to their own ends. The attempt, successful or not, twists the spirit from its original purpose, and thus it becomes a demon.”

She nodded. “That makes sense, actually. I have read some of the research from the Circle on the subject, and they get some things right but not everything, I don’t think. They divide beings from the Fade into to two categories: demons and spirits. Usually by how nice or not they are. It makes more sense that they are all the same thing, at least at first.”

“Indeed. The Fade responds to one’s will, and intent. So it is with spirits. If you approach one seeking to twist its power for your own ends, it will respond negatively.”

“There are some demons that don’t seem to be connected to any one person, though,” she mused. “What of them?”

“That is the second reason. Sometimes forces beyond any one person’s control will pull a spirit through the Veil without its consent. The loss of control and the ensuing confusion will most often result in the spirit losing its purpose, and thus it becomes a demon. The spirits who fell from the Breach are good example.”

“And no purpose, or a lost purpose, means they seek one out. Thus, possession of a mortal body.”

“Precisely,” he confirmed. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You seem to know more than you let on about the subject.”

She grinned. “I read a lot.”

“A worthy pastime. If one does not take every author at their word. Not that you seem to do so.” He inclined his head in a gesture of respect.

“Was that a compliment?”

“I intended it as such.”

“Well then, thank you very much,” she replied.

“ _Nuva lasa su ma enaste_.” He bowed very slightly at the waist.

She tilted her head again. “I know ‘enaste’, that means blessings. Or grace. ’You’re welcome’?” she guessed.

“An approximation. It literally translates to ‘may it give you grace.’”

“Oh, that’s very poetic! I like it.” She beamed at him.

Her smile caused that tiny spark to flare, lighting the depths of his mind where he had hidden it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, the first real conversation! This has been so fun to write, thanks for reading. <3


	5. Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Co. travel to the Hinterlands to meet Mother Giselle.

The Hinterlands felt like home. 

Well, except for all the shems milling about. But if Ellana closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of pine needles wafting on the crisp air, she could almost pretend she was back in the Free Marches. She heard the bellowing of rams, and the chitter-squeaks of foxes finding their dens, and –

“Blood of the Maker, I will _kill you_!” a distant shout carried up the hills along with the sounds of slashing and screams of dozens of people fighting for their lives in a frenzied free-for-all.

_Well, so much for that._

Ellana opened her eyes and sighed. The camp that the Inquisition had set up was pretty nice, as camps went. A sturdy tent was to her left, and tables and chairs surrounded a fire pit that already had a stew bubbling above it. She walked over to one of the tables and picked up the map of the local area drawn for her by the scouts.

“So, I go down this hill to this little settlement and that’s where Mother Giselle is?” she asked one of the scouts.

“Yes, Your Worship,” he replied, brisk and professional.

She winced. “Please do not call me that. Ellana, or Mistress Lavellan, if you must.”

He gaped at her, confused at the informality. “Yes, Your Worship,” he repeated.

Varric laughed behind her. “Might as well give up, Red,” he advised. “They do think you’re holy or blessed or whatever.”

Ellana eyed him. “Red? That’s what I get?”

He shrugged. “It’s simple, to the point. I had it reserved for an old friend of mine, but she didn’t want it, so now it’s yours.”

Cassandra snorted in amusement. “Take it as a compliment, Ellana. He only gives nicknames to people he likes.”

“True enough, Seeker.” Varric winked at Cassandra, who promptly rolled her eyes.

“We should get moving,” Ellana said. “It sounds pretty chaotic around here. I’d hate for this Revered Mother to be dead when we find her.”

They made their way carefully down the steep path between two hills. Ellana, satisfied they were heading in the correct general direction, rolled up the map and stuck it in her belt. She would make a copy to keep later when they were back at Haven; this one could be roughed up a bit. For a few minutes, the path was relatively quiet, the height of the hills insulating them from the sounds of battle somewhat. Cassandra, walking beside her at the front of their party, was the first to notice trouble.

“Rouge Templars!” she shouted in warning as she drew her blade and readied her shield. “Stay behind me!”

“No problem, Seeker!” Varric shouted back. He had already shouldered his crossbow, Bianca, and fired a bolt through the eye of one man rushing them with his sword held in the air. The man dropped instantly, dead before he hit the ground.

Ellana turned the rush of adrenaline into power, and two more Templars began to burn. They screamed but kept attacking. Cassandra held them off, glancing their frenzied blows off her shield with practiced ease. There was a sudden crack in the air and one of them froze solid, and then shattered into a million tiny fragments with Cassandra’s next blow. The second one threw up his hands to protect his eyes, and Cassandra took the opening. He went down with her next slash.

“Nice one, Solas!” Ellana looked back to where he stood just behind and to her left, staff held out to his side and one hand brought up to his temple to help focus his will. He gave a half smile and nodded once in her direction.

Cassandra shook the melting ice off her sword and charged forward into the village. “There are more coming, stand ready!”

Ellana followed, taking up a position with her back to a stone outcropping. They were coming in two groups, one to the left that looked like more Templars, all heavy armor and broad shields. The group to the right were armored more simply in layered leathers, and she spied some mage robes on one or two of them. Former Circle mages, with some hired muscle for protection, most likely.

“We are not here to harm you!” Cassandra shouted.

“I don’t think any of them are going to listen, Seeker!” Varric punched another bolt into one of the mercenaries. The woman screamed and clutched her side, and angled her movements to attempt to attack Varric in reprisal. Ellana stepped between them first, concentrating, and her barrier deflected the blow from them both. She whipped her staff around quickly while the woman was off balance, slicing through her throat with the blade at the tip. The woman dropped her sword and clutched at her throat as she slid to the ground.

“ _Ir abelas_ ,” Ellana whispered as the woman died. “Falon’Din guide you to rest.”

Varric spat on the ground. “Your prayers are wasted, Red. Shouldn’t feel bad about self-defense.”

“To the contrary, Child of the Stone. She honors the value of the life she had to take. That is no small thing,” Solas cut in. He and Cassandra had finished off the rest of the attackers, and Inquisition soldiers were already moving in to secure the area. Solas planted his staff in the ground in front of him. “Do not make light of it.”

“Whatever, Chuckles.” Varric swung Bianca back behind his shoulder and moved off.

Ellana folded her arms. “I don’t need you to defend me, you know.”

Solas inclined his head. “I know. Regardless, it needed to be said.”

“You don’t like Varric much, do you.” It was less a question than a statement.

“I actually like him a great deal,” Solas replied smoothly. “He is a good man. That does not mean we do not have our differences.”

“Hmm.” Ellana tilted her head, considering him. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A good man.”

He seemed baffled by the question. “I…do not know. I like to think so.”

“Hmm,” she said again. “I think you are. You saved my life, after all. But I also don’t really get why you are still here.”

Were his cheeks flushing or was that her imagination?

“Never mind,” Ellana said. “Let’s find Mother Giselle so we can go back to Haven.”

***

The Inquisition forces made it possible for the refugees to return, and they did in droves. Once it was clear who was in charge, they lined up and began pleading for supplies, food, and blankets against the cold. The Inquisition soldiers were doing their best to accommodate them, but soon ran out of the provisions they had carried in. Ellana watched, a pang of sympathy for their plight twisting in her chest. She knew what it was like to run out, to have to choose who gets what based on their need. She did not know who she felt worse for: the soldiers or the refugees.

She made her way over to the area that had been designated for triage. Alchemists and a few mages were tending to the wounded; all the wounded, she noted. Civilians, rebels, Templars, Inquisition: she saw all uniforms lying on the cots, equalized by their pain. One woman kneeling over a cot stood out from the others, her bright red and white robes making it impossible for her to blend in.

“Do not fear, my child,” she murmured, her words weighed down by a thick Orlesian accent. “A few moments and you will feel much better.” She waved over one of the mages, who began casting a healing spell.

The soldier, an Inquisition scout by his dress, saw this and his eyes widened. “Do not…let her touch me, Revered Mother! I would not be tainted by her evil.”

Ellana shook her head. This man would rather die in his ignorance than take advantage of the mage’s skills? She had heard of such prejudice, but never witnessed it in person.

“Her magic is certainly no more evil than your blade,” the Mother replied, to Ellana’s surprise. Usually Chantry Mothers were spouting the superstitions against magic, not dismantling them. “It is a tool, and whether it is used for good purpose or for ill depends on its wielder.”

The soldier nodded his consent, either the Mother’s logic or his pain overwhelming his judgment. The mage finished the healing spell, running her hands in the air over the young man’s wounds. The Mother stood and cleaned her hands off on a small towel. “I presume you are Ellana Lavellan? The Herald of Andraste, yes?”

“No. I mean, I _am_ Ellana Lavellan. I am not the Herald of Andraste.”

“That will be a comfort to my sisters in the Chantry, I am certain.” Mother Giselle chuckled. “We seldom have much say in our fate, no?”

“Why am I here?”

“Straight to business, good. The danger we face demands no less.” Mother Giselle’s face was serious, but kind. “I heard the Chantry’s denouncement, and I know the ones behind it.” She pursed her lips. “I won’t lie. The death of the Most Holy, in addition to being a great and painful loss to all of Thedas, has left a vacuum of power that some believe they are best suited to fill.”

“And they are using me – or rather, their denouncement of me – to put themselves forward,” Ellana concluded.

“Precisely. I must admit I am surprised one such as yourself has such a grasp of Chantry politics.”

“You mean because I’m Dalish.”

“I _meant_ because you are not a member of the clergy,” Mother Giselle chided gently. “But yes, I recognize that the Chantry has not been most welcoming to your people. Hopefully, with a Dalish having been chosen to represent Andraste, that might change.”

Ellana studied the woman’s face, looking for a sign she was being made fun of and finding none. “You really mean that,” she said, incredulous.

“I do,” Mother Giselle replied. “In a better world, your people would have always been recognized as children of the Maker. Alas, the pursuit of power has muddied the waters.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Ellana said dryly.

Mother Giselle nodded once in acquiescence. “I do not presume to speak for you on your people’s suffering at the hands of the Chantry. But I can recognize the problems and work to better them.”

“So, what solution do you have for my current problem between the Chantry and the Inquisition?”

“I mentioned that only some of the clerics were behind the denouncement of your title of Herald, yes? The rest are mostly just terrified.”

“That’s understandable. _I’m_ terrified,” Ellana replied.

“Indeed, the events that have transpired are unprecedented in living memory,” Mother Giselle agreed. “The fearful always seek out someone to blame. And you are the easiest target. They are hearing only frightful tales of you. You must counteract that, show them that you are not an abomination seeking to strike them down.”

“You want me to appeal to them? Will that work?”

“Their power lies in their unified voice. Convince some you are not a threat, that you mean to help seal the Breach and have no claim to special status or power, and they will fall back into fighting among themselves.” She shrugged. “I do not wish for more strife within our ranks, but if it keeps the worst of them from impeding your progress, then so be it. We can deal with the internal consequences later.”

“That’s incredibly practical of you,” Ellana observed. “Thank you for taking the time to speak to me. I will take your advice to the Inquisition.”

“I do not presume to know the will of the Maker, or if you have indeed been sent by His divine providence in our hour of need.” Mother Giselle smiled. “But I am glad to know that you possess a kind and intelligent soul. We could do worse for a leader in these dark times.”

“Thank you for the compliment, but I am not leading anything.”

“As you say, Herald,” Mother Giselle replied. The gleam in her eye forestalled Ellana’s irritation at the use of that title. She smiled despite herself.

“ _Dar'eth Shiral_ , Mother Giselle.”

***

Ellana considered the Mother’s advice later that evening at camp, mulling over her words. From what she knew of the Chantry, it made sense that the best of them were the ones at the conclave, and now dead. All that remained were the mid-rank grasping, corrupt power-seekers. She guessed that Cassandra and Leliana – and Mother Giselle, she supposed – were now in a very small minority of people who wanted to use the power the Chantry had to make the world better instead of furthering their own power and greed.

“You seem far away,” a smooth voice said behind her. “One could almost mistake you for a Dreamer.”

“Oh, a _n'eth'ara_ , Solas. Just thinking about …" she waved her hand in a vague gesture meant to indicate the entire world. “You know, everything.”

Solas sat down next to her on the log she had claimed a few yards removed from camp. “The conversation with the Chantry Mother did not go well, I take it?”

“Actually, she seems to genuinely want to help,” Ellana replied. “She was pretty unusual for a cleric, based on what I read.”

“How so?”

Ellana began ticking off the points on her fingers. “She doesn’t denounce magic out of hand. She recognizes the harm her people have caused the elvhen and apologized for it. And she told me that her church was corrupt and how to play into that.”

His eyebrows shot up. “That is surprising.”

Ellana nodded. “She said a lot of things I wanted to hear. Now I’m trying to figure out if she’s trying to play me, as well.”

He considered that for a moment. “Do you want advice? Or simply a listening ear?”

“Advice would not be unwelcome,” Ellana admitted.

“Very well,” He paused before beginning again. Ellana noticed his eyebrows drew in just slightly when he was thinking, a single wrinkle appearing between them on his otherwise smooth features. The moonlight caused shadows to play across the angles of his face, deepening his brow and throwing his high cheekbones into sharp relief. It made him look much less book-ish than normal. Possibly even handsome.

Ellana looked away quickly at that thought. No time for _that_ , definitely. End of the world and all.

“Consider the Mother’s advice and ask yourself this: who benefits, and how, if you do as she says?” Solas asked her.

“Well,” Ellana started slowly. “The Chantry certainly doesn’t benefit from more in-fighting. But they are probably going to do that anyway no matter what we do. The Inquisition would benefit from lessened scrutiny, and we may get a few to be on our side, or at least question. Josephine seems like she can do a lot with extraordinarily little.”

“Indeed.”

“Mother Giselle herself doesn’t really benefit personally, not in any way I can see.” Ellana bit her lip. “It’s just really hard to trust people normally and now that’s even worse.”

“I sympathize. I too find it hard to discern at times, particularly when I have spent overlong in the Dreaming. Spirits are much more straightforward, in most cases.”

“I need a distraction,” Ellana declared. “Tell me more about your spirit-friends?”

“As you wish. What would you like to know?”

Ellana pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. “What made you start studying the Fade? I’ve never heard of someone doing what you do, not exactly. There are the _somniari_ of course, and the Circle of Magi sends mages into the Fade as a test, but no one ever talks about actually choosing to spend time there.”

Solas gave her that half smile again. “I grew up in a small village,” he said. “As you can imagine, there wasn’t much to interest a young man gifted with magic. I decided early on I would not be taken by a Circle, and there was no clan of Dalish nearby for me to learn from. So, I taught myself.” He looked at her, and then up at the stars twinkling overhead. “Dreaming comes easily to most everyone, save the dwarves. I found myself Dreaming more and more, exploring the Fade around me, testing how I could shape it to my will.”

“You just…knew how to do that? No books? No teacher?”

He chuckled. “No books, but I did have a teacher, later on. A Spirit of Wisdom.”

“Wisdom? I’ve never heard of a spirit by that name.”

“They are exceedingly rare, and do not choose to interact with mortals very often. So I doubt there is much scholarship on their existence. You’ll learn not everything that is worth knowing can be found in between the covers of a book,” he teased.

Ellana reached out and swatted him on the shoulder. “I _know_ that, books are just…easier than people, for me.” She frowned at him. “I know I’m young, and I come across a certain way, but I am not stupid.”

Solas regarded her seriously. “No, you are not.”

His eyes roamed over her features as if studying her, trying to find what was underneath her surface. It was unsettling, but she realized it was not entirely unpleasant. She met his gaze and tilted her head. “What are you looking for?”

He started, drawn out of his reverie by her quiet question. “I…” he hesitated. “Your mark. I was making sure it was not spreading further.”

Ellana uncurled her left hand and looked at the scar on her palm. It wasn’t even glowing; they were far enough away from the Breach and there were no open rifts nearby. “It seems fine? It itches, sometimes. But it doesn’t hurt anymore. _Ma serannas_ , for that.”

Solas stood suddenly and made a small bow to her. “My apologies for disturbing you. I should leave you to rest.” He walked away before she could protest.

 _Well that was confusing_. Ellana shrugged to herself. Whatever his problem was, she couldn’t solve it. At least, not tonight. She kneaded her left palm absently, looking up at the sky. Facing away from the Breach, you could almost think everything was fine. For a few minutes, she busied herself picking out familiar constellations, hoping that her clan was looking up at the same stars and thinking of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I can keep up constant updates forever but I figure as long as I have a chapter finished I should post it :) 
> 
> THANK YOU for your comments! The encouragement seriously gets me through bad days. <3


	6. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Co. spend the night in Val Royeaux.

He tried to avoid her, after that, though his commitment to help the Inquisition frequently put them in proximity. He was one of a few talented individuals who could journey with her, and make sure she did not come to harm.

And that is how he found himself in Val Royeaux on market day watching as Cassandra and Ellana tried to salvage something from the remains of the Chantry. He and Varric hung back, knowing that their appearance would detract from the force of the women’s words. They watched from across the square as Ellana confronted a Chantry sister who was giving a speech to a gathered crowd of townspeople. Ellana gave her own impassioned speech about how she was not blessed or holy, but merely a person trying to save as many as possible from the chaos.

It was a good speech. A shame that no one listened. 

Even from across the square he could see her eyes burned with youthful passion as she pleaded with the people to come together, to rally behind the only people doing anything useful. The confidence radiating from her was obvious in her stance; strong shoulders squared towards the sister, chin lifted in defiance of her denouncement. He was forcefully reminded of speeches he had given when he was young. Speeches meant to inspire others to be better than themselves, to support the greater good.

No one had listened to him, either.

A group of Templars appeared, but their behavior made it clear they were not rejoining the Chantry. That was an interesting development.

Cassandra and Ellana followed the Templars. It looked like Cassandra was attempting to appeal to the Lord Seeker and it was not going well.

Varric had noticed too. “We better go see if they need backup.”

“Agreed,” he replied.

“…then why are you here? To make pompous speeches about your destiny?” Ellana was asking, her frustration clear in her tone.

“I came to see what frightens old women so, and to laugh,” the Lord Seeker replied. There was no mirth on his face. A few of the younger Templars shifted uncomfortably, clearly not in total agreement with their leader’s irreligious display.

Ellana picked up on their vacillation and pounced on the opportunity. “Templars, one of your own has already joined us, seeing the worthiness of our cause! There is room for you in the Inquisition, if you are willing to fulfill your vows and protect the people as you have sworn.”

“We are called to a higher purpose,” the Lord Seeker sneered. He turned and saluted the Templars behind him. “Let us leave this place, brethren. Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection.”

Ellana sighed, but did not say anything further as they left.

Solas nodded to her when they re-grouped. She smiled sadly at him, and turned to Cassandra.

“Well, that was awful.”

Cassandra sighed. “It could have been worse. We have not been arrested for disturbing the peace. Yet.”

Ellana snorted. “I’d like to see them try. Josephine would have them all sacked within an hour.”

Cassandra gave a small laugh. “You are not wrong, Herald.”

“Cassandra.”

“Ugh. Fine. Ellana.” Cassandra amended. “But you must realize that accepting that title will do much to sway the people. If not the Chantry.”

He barely tamped down the smile that threatened to creep onto his face when Ellana rolled her eyes.

“Alright, alright. But only in public,” she relented.

Cassandra inclined her head. “Thank you, _Herald._ ”

“He was a charming fellow,” Varric noted wryly. “You worked for him, Seeker?”

“Not really,” Cassandra admitted. “He became Lord Seeker two years ago after Lord Seeker Lambert was killed. I had already taken up my duties as Right Hand of the Divine at the time.”

“How well do you know him, Cassandra?” Ellana asked.

“A little. He seemed a reasonable and even-tempered man, not given to seeking glory or renown. His behavior just now was very bizarre.” Cassandra shook her head, confused.

Ellana rubbed her forehead. “So much for Templar help. What do we do now?”

“We cannot make any decisions unilaterally. We must report our conversation here to the Inquisition and see what they recommend,” Cassandra said. “But it is too late to travel today. I believe Josephine made arrangements for us in the city. We can set out for Haven again in the morning.”

“Excuse me, you represent the Inquisition, yes?” An elven woman with a soft Orlesian accent inquired. Her fine robes and lack of vallaslin markings indicated she was a member of the Circle, and one of rank.

Ellana turned. “Yes, we are. Can I help you?”

The woman gave a small bow. “I was looking specifically to speak to the Herald of Andraste. Are you she?”

She managed not to roll her eyes this time, he noted. “Yes. My name is Ellana Lavellan.”

“A pleasure,” the woman replied, a beatific smile on her lips that did not reach her eyes. “I am Grand Enchanter Fiona, leader of the free mages of Thedas.”

“Grand Enchanter?” Cassandra interrupted. “What are you doing here in Val Royeaux?”

“Looking for you, Herald,” Fiona’s eyes never left Ellana’s face. “I have a proposal for you.”

“Alright,” Ellana said. “I’m listening.”

“Come to Redcliffe. Meet with the free mages. We have the power you need to help seal the Breach.”

“Just like that?”

Fiona’s smile faltered, but only for a moment. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Why were you not at the Conclave?” Ellana asked.

“I sent a representative in case it was a trap. A wise move, on my part, considering what did happen. You’ll note the Lord Seeker did the same, and thus he is still alive as well.”

“Hmm,” Ellana said, in the way he had learned meant she was puzzling things out in her mind. “Very well. I’ll meet with you. I do wonder how much this is going to cost me, however.”

Fiona smiled wider. “Why, nothing, of course. We simply wish to aid a fellow mage in sealing the Breach.” She bowed again. “I look forward to seeing you in Redcliffe, my lady Herald.” She turned and walked away before Ellana could ask her any more questions.

“’Fellow mage?’ Did you hear that?” Ellana scoffed. “We have _nothing_ in common.”

“Ellana,” Solas said quietly. “She was not acting of her own accord.”

“I know. She had creepy eyes,” Ellana replied seriously. “You can always tell when someone is enchanted because their eyes go all creepy.”

“Oh, well, yes, I suppose,” he said, baffled. “I was meaning the aura of magic hanging about her that was not _from_ her, but yes, ‘creepy eyes’ is also a giveaway.”

“Let’s get off the streets, before anyone else approaches us,” Cassandra suggested. “I have a feeling the proposals will be decidedly less friendly after dark.”

Josephine had made arrangements, it turned out; a nobleman friendly to the Inquisition’s cause had offered them the use of his town home for the night. The interior was palatial, but the decor was absolutely atrocious. Statuary, fine art, and handmade rugs clashed with one another, indicating that whoever had placed all these things here had no eye for color schemes or thematic arrangements and merely wished to shove as many very expensive things into each room as space would allow.

It gave him a headache as soon as they walked in the door.

Ellana took in the sight in silence, and then burst out laughing, a sound of pure mirth that warmed the room. “ _This_ is what humans think looks good?”

Cassandra smiled ruefully. “This is what one man thinks is good, at least.”

“C’mon Red it’s not that bad.” Varric hopped up onto an extremely poufy chair upholstered in shocking pink velvet and settled in. “The furniture is cozier than the ground, at least.”

“I’m going to find a balcony,” she declared. “I already need fresh air.” She wandered off into another room to begin her search.

Varric patted the chair next to him. “How about it Chuckles? There’s plenty of room!”

“Regretfully I must decline,” Solas said sardonically.

“Suit yourself,” Varric said with a shrug. He leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes. “Better go see if Red is alright, anyway. Getting rejected by a whole crowd of people stings a bit. I’m in publishing; I should know.”

It was not a horrible suggestion, no matter the source. Solas headed in the direction Ellana had wandered and found that she had indeed located a balcony. She was leaning against the stone railing, gazing out at the waters of Lake Celestine as the gentle waves flashed in shades of orange and red in the waning light. The sight of her silhouette limed by the setting sun made his fingers itch to hold a paintbrush once again, an urge he had not had since Waking. He stood quietly for a moment, memorizing the scene.

“You better not be trying to sneak up on me, Solas,” Ellana said without turning around, breaking the silence and startling him out of his reverie.

“Of course not, Herald,” he assured her. He moved up to stand next to her and looked out at the lake.

“Creators, if you all do not _stop_...” she began, then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mythal preserve me,” she muttered. “Why me? Wrong place, wrong time? Was it that simple? Or something more?”

He wasn’t sure if the questions were actual or rhetorical, and remained silent.

“It has to be chance. Has to be. Literally _anyone_ would have been a better choice,” she declared after a moment. All the confidence she had displayed earlier with the Chantry sisters had disappeared. Her shoulders drooped and she reached up to rub her temples.

“Why?”

She turned and leaned against the balcony with her back to the lake, elbows propped up on the stone surface. “You’re kidding, right? Let’s make a list.” She held up one fist, extending a finger as she stated each reason. “One, Dalish. Two, mage. Three, never been in charge of _anything,_ and I’m still not, but everyone keeps asking me to make decisions anyway. Four, did I mention Dalish?”

“Do you know what your name means?”

She blinked at the sudden change in subject. “What? No, I guess I never thought about it before. Does it mean something in particular?”

“’She Who Can Do Anything,’” he said quietly. “It was originally an honorific given to elves who had proven themselves through great deeds.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Huh.” Then she frowned and looked up at him. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckled despite himself. “I swear to you I am not.”

“Oh sure,” she said. “You just happened to have a dream about a spirit that knows my name and it told you, did it?”

“You think such a thing improbable? The Fade responds to one’s imagination, is shaped by one’s experiences.”

“Oh, I see. So, you were dreaming about me.”

He felt heat rise to his cheeks, unbidden. He cleared his throat. “What would be unusual about that? We have spent a great deal of time together, tossed about as we are by the winds of circumstance.”

She squinted up at him, and he forced himself to meet her gaze unflinchingly. After a moment, she laughed and swatted his shoulder.

“Stop being so serious, it was a joke!” She grinned at him. “No wonder Varric started calling you ‘Chuckles’.”

He tried not to let the relief show on his face by masking it as irritation. “My _point_ was that you should not doubt yourself so frequently,” he clarified. “I hoped that you would draw inspiration from knowing the true meaning of your name.”

Her grin softened into a genuine smile. She placed a hand on his arm, and he stilled. “ _Ma serannas,_ Solas,” she said, voice low. “It was very nice to hear.” She squeezed gently, once, and then withdrew.

His skin stayed warm where her hand had been.

She turned back to looking out at the scene below them. The sun had set fully now, and stars were beginning to wink out from the horizon. “This view is so nice, one could almost forget the world was ending,” she said wistfully. “Speaking of which, what do _you_ think we should do next?”

“The Breach must be sealed, and quickly,” he said. “Based on today’s events, it seems you have two options for doing so: the mages or the Templars.”

She nodded. “Additive or reductive. We either mass enough power to force the Breach to close, or we attempt to remove so much power from it that it doesn’t have a choice.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “One will not be easier than the other. But, if you wish to know which I would choose, it would be the mages.”

“Interesting,” she mused. “Care to explain why?”

“First, in nearly all circumstances, including magic, adding is always easier than removing. Second, the mages have power inherent to themselves, without need of lyrium; therefore, the Templars would require more resources than we might have at present.”

“That was one of my concerns, as well.”

“That is not to say there are not unknowns from either side. Both the Grand Enchanter and the Lord Seeker displayed behavior today that could be charitably described as ‘odd,’ for reasons that are still unclear. Whoever you choose, you must use caution and keep them at arm’s length.”

“Hmm.” She straightened from the railing. “We do have a lot of factors to consider. Thank you for your advice.” Another smile.

He found he wanted to paint that, too.

“I’m going to go get some rest. Cassandra is an early riser,” she said. “Good night, Solas.”

He watched her leave, and then turned and stared out at the lake for a long while, trying to calm his thoughts.


	7. Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Co. travel back to Haven after the events in Val Royeaux. 
> 
> What we missed: Lavellan recruits Sera and Vivienne, who travel to Haven on their own.

The journey back to Haven was uneventful. She was grateful for that; it gave her time to mull over the options they had. Ellana didn’t think she’d be making the final decision – Creators, she hoped not – but from the moment she fell out of the Fade the others had looked to her to figure out which direction they should head. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it other than that she felt _seriously_ underprepared for that kind of pressure. If she ever got to talk to Keeper Deshanna again, she was going to recommend more vigorous curriculum for the next First.

A pang of remorse twisted her gut. She hadn’t thought about that; it wasn’t likely she would be going back to her clan anytime soon. Her new and entirely unique capabilities regarding rifts and Breaches (heh, she’d have to make sure Sera heard that one when they met up again) meant she had a responsibility to make sure things were stable before she even considered leaving. And with so many unknowns, there was no way to know if she could even _do_ that.

The only person who seemed to even have an idea of what was happening was Solas. He had never refused to answer a question she or the others had posed, and yet she still felt he was holding back information they desperately needed. She could not figure him out. He was completely unassuming, in nearly every aspect, and that was what unnerved her. It was like someone had taken a list of all the most unremarkable things in the world a person could be and added them all together and got Solas.

The odds of that happening were …exceptionally low, she thought. And to make it even more confusing he _still_ managed to be one of the most interesting people she’d ever met. She risked a glance in his direction relieved when he wasn’t looking at her. He was too busy bickering with Varric about some philosophical question or another, something they loved to do to pass time on the road. Ellana fell into pace a few feet behind them, listening.

“What’s with all your doom stuff, anyway, Chuckles? Are you always this cheery, or is the hole in the sky getting to you?”

Ellana smiled. He was very grim, but that wasn’t necessarily out of place considering current events.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Solas replied coolly.

 _Yes, you do,_ she thought. _No one is like that all the time, you must be doing it on purpose._

“All the fallen empire crap you go on about. What’s so great about empires anyway? So we lost the Deep Roads. Life goes on, it’s just different than it used to be.”

Solas scoffed. “And you have no concept of what that difference cost you.”

And there it was. He was always so arrogant, as well. It was the one thing she found that irritated her about him. He constantly acted like he knew so much more than the rest of them. How, she couldn’t figure; no self-trained mage who wanders from place to place could know _that_ much just from dreaming.

“Oh, sure, but I know what it didn’t cost me. I’m still here, even after all those thaigs fell,” Varric shrugged. “I have no reason to be upset about it.” 

“You truly are content to sit in the sun, never wondering what you could have been? Never fighting back?”

“Bah, you’ve got it all wrong, Chuckles. This _is_ fighting back.”

“How does passively accepting your fate constitute a fight?” Solas asked, his tone growing agitated.

“That fisher man of yours, the one who lost everything and stayed on his island; you thought he gave up right?” Varric asked calmly.

“Yes,” Solas agreed, cautiously.

“But he went on _living_. He lost everything, but he still got up every morning, he made a life, even if it was alone. That’s the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you’ve got it, it takes. And it’s gone forever. The only choices you get are to lie down and die, or keep going. He kept going. That’s as close to beating the world as anyone gets.”

 _Damn, Varric_. If she was keeping score, then Solas was down a point.

Solas was quiet for a long moment. “Well said. Perhaps I was mistaken.” 

Well, that was refreshing. Although now that she thought about it, Solas admitted he was wrong or didn’t know things all the time. Maybe she was being unfair in calling him arrogant.

“However,” Solas continued. “The fisherman wasn’t facing the end of an entire civilization. That changes things, does it not?”

Then again, maybe not.

Varric’s sigh echoed her thoughts. “I give up.” He turned to her. “You try, Red.”

“Try what?” Solas asked as Varric walked up the path to join Cassandra.

“You ran him off towards Cassandra, that is saying something,” Ellana teased him. “They hate each other.”

“Hmph. I thought we were having a philosophical discussion.”

“You put too much personal emphasis on things to do that,” Ellana pointed out. “You can’t let it be neutral.”

“Neutrality does nothing,” Solas said firmly. “One must pick a side, make a decision, one way or the other. No one ever accomplished anything of note by remaining in the middle.”

“Say I agree with you,” Ellana replied. “How does insisting that Varric should care about the loss of the dwarven thaigs help anyone?”

“That is not the point.”

“It isn’t?” She asked innocently.

“No! The point is that when one sees a problem, one should fix it. One should do something rather than sitting idly by.” He was all but shouting, now.

“Solas,” she said quietly. “Look around. We _are_ all doing something.”

He opened his mouth like he was going to continue arguing, and then he closed it again with a sigh. “Of course,” he relented. “You are correct, again.”

“Ooo, ‘again’?”

He smiled faintly. “You have a habit of that.”

“Of what?”

“Being correct.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And of making jokes.”

Ellana shrugged, nonplussed. “I like to laugh. I don’t see anything wrong with that. If you can’t laugh and enjoy things where you can, what would be the point of saving the world?”

He did not reply to that. They walked in silence for a few moments.

“So,” Ellana said. “How about teaching me your dreaming thing tonight?”

“What?”

“You know, you said you’d teach me how you see memories in the Fade. How about tonight, when we camp?”

“If I recall, I agreed to teach you _after_ the current crisis was resolved.”

“We’re not going to seal the Breach tonight, are we?”

“Not likely, no.”

“So we have some time, then!” Ellana said brightly. She looped her arm through his. “Come on, please?”

He looked down at their arms, and then back up at her, his face inscrutable.

“Oh, sorry,” she murmured, pulling away.

“No, I –” He frowned and rubbed his forehead. “Yes, I will show you some things while we rest tonight.”

“ _Ma serannas_!” she said, beaming at him. Her excitement banished the moment of awkwardness. “I can’t wait.”

****

It was exceedingly difficult for her to fall asleep that night. Eventually she did drift off, her Dreaming self sliding off into the Fade while her mortal body rested on the ground. For a few moments, everything around her was neutral. The ground was loose beige dirt, all the same texture, not even gravel or the occasional stone to break the monotony. The sky was the same shade of beige as the ground and empty as well; no clouds, no birds, nothing. A blank canvas, waiting for an artist to tell it what it should be. She looked down at herself. She looked the same, as far as she could tell, as when she laid down to sleep.

“Hello.”

She turned, slowly, toward his voice. “Hello,” she replied. “Where are we?”

“We are Nowhere, for the moment. Where would you like to be?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

“Think,” he urged her. “You can be any place you’d like to be. Where are you?”

She closed her eyes. “I’m… in the forest?” she ventured.

“Good, start there,” he encouraged. “Think some more. What time of day is it?”

“Morning,” she answered immediately. “There is still dew on the leaves.”

“What else?”

She spoke more confidently now. “The sunlight is strong and breaks through the canopy, so it isn’t dark. There are birds, whippoorwills and blue jays, flitting in the trees. The loam is soft underneath my feet. I am home.” She sighed wistfully.

“Open your eyes, Ellana.”

She did, and gasped in awe. It was exactly what she had described. They were standing in the middle of a familiar forest, the one her clan had hunted most often. Everything was bright and sharp and colorful and crisp, unlike any memory or dream she’d ever had. She reached out a finger tentatively and ran it across the surface of one leaf, then tasted the dew. It was fresh and clean and sweet. The air-that-was-not-air smelled like pine needles and wet dirt and _life_ and she felt immediately more at ease than she had in weeks.

“This is amazing,” she breathed. “How did you know exactly what it looked like?”

“I did not, until you showed me” he said. “You created this. The Fade responded to your intent, and here we are. Which is where, if I may ask?”

“The forest where I grew up,” she replied. “Well, one of them. We lived in many, you know. This was my favorite one,” she clarified.

“I can see why. It is lovely.” He held out a hand to her. “Walk with me?”

“Do I have to do anything to keep it going?” She took his offered hand. It was warmer than she expected, almost hot to the touch.

“No,” he assured her. “The Fade is reacting to you, without you needing to direct it consciously. It will adapt to your memory.”

“Oh.” They started walking through the forest of her childhood, hand in hand. She was quiet as she drank in the riot of color and movement around them. All this was from her memories? It seemed impossible; she knew that when she was awake, she could not recall this place in this much detail.

As if he read her thoughts, Solas began to explain. “Our unconscious mind stores more information that we give it credit for. All we lack is the key to unlock it. The Fade is not the key, not precisely, but it helps one find it.”

“Amazing,” she said again, at a loss to come up with something more descriptive for the awe she felt.

“Tell me of your clan.”

She looked at him quizzically. “I thought you didn’t like the Dalish.”

“I have nothing against the Dalish as a whole,” he responded. “It is only that every Dalish I have ever met has not liked me, nor I them.” He paused. “Save one.”

She looked down at the dirt-that-was-not-dirt, too afraid to see his face at the moment. “Oh.”

He squeezed her hand gently. “Did you have a family? Or something different?” he prompted.

“Oh, um, yes. I mean, both, kind of.” She cleared her throat and started again. “Yes, I had parents. No siblings, not any born of them, anyway. My clan was like a huge family, though. All the adults looked after all the children, and taught them what they knew.”

“That sounds…chaotic,” he replied.

She laughed. “It was, but in the best way possible. You always knew no matter who you were with, they had your back.” She smiled softly. “It’s a little bit like the Inquisition. We’re all different, with different skills, but working towards the same goal.”

He nodded. “I had not considered the similarities.”

“Why would you? You didn’t grow up in a clan.”

“True enough.” He stopped, and she did as well. “Will you show them to me?”

“My clan?”

“Yes,” he said. “I…would like to know where you come from.”

She tilted her head at him, but let the question she almost asked remain unsaid, for now. “I will try,” she agreed, and closed her eyes again.

“The easiest way is to think of a specific memory,” Solas offered.

“Hmm,” she murmured, thinking. She heard the scene around them change, the noises of the forest giving way to the jumbled conversations and laughter and sounds of tools and creaking aravels that wove together in the backdrop for every childhood memory she possessed. The loamy smell of the wet forest floor was replaced with woodsmoke and roasted meats.

She opened her eyes just as a tiny version of herself ran past them, toward one of the aravels. The child-Ellana was a mess, covered in dirt and leaves in her tangled hair, wailing as she ran towards a woman with long dark auburn hair that matched her own. The woman dropped the sewing she was doing and stood in alarm.

“Ellana? What is wrong, _ma’hallain_?”

“Mae!” the child wailed and threw herself into the woman’s arms. “Hauen chased me into the fens again!”

The woman tsk-ed as she patted the child’s hair. “Why did you let him do that, _lethal’lan_? We talked about that.”

“I know! I’m supposed to say ‘no’ and stand up for myself, but he is so _big and scary_ , and I’m so tiny, and I c-c-couldn’t!” The child-Ellana hiccuped sadly.

“There, there, little one. It’s alright. But remember always: no matter what you face, however big or scary, the Clan will always be with you, and give you strength.”

The child wiped at her eyes, smudging more dirt on her face. “Yes, momma.”

The woman sighed. “Still, I’ll have a talk with his mother. In the meantime, go wash for supper.”

The scene dissolved. Ellana shifted uncomfortably. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

“Why?” Solas asked seriously. “It was a time when you were afraid and found comfort. That is natural. And entirely understandable that it is at the forefront of your mind, considering.”

“I suppose,” she said.

“That is also why when I asked where you wanted to be, your mind chose a place that you were comfortable, and safe.” He squeezed her hand again. “Dreams have a way of showing us the truth about ourselves, whether we want to see it or not.”

“I can see why you spend so much time here,” she said. “If the places you see bring you comfort.”

“They do not always,” he replied. “But yes, I have always preferred uncomfortable truths to comforting lies.”

She nodded. “I think I will just sleep, now, if that’s alright.”

He let go of her hand, and gave a small bow. “Of course. You did well. I look forward to our next lesson.”

When she opened her eyes, it was morning.

Their group ate their breakfast in companionable silence, having learned not to ask too much of each other this early in the morning. Solas walked past her while she was rolling up her blankets into her pack. He met her eyes briefly, and then squeezed her shoulder once before moving past.

He did not mention what they had discussed in the Fade, and neither did she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw this done on another fic and thought it was a really good idea and freed me from having to find ways to "translate" in the prose, which can sometimes take you out of the scene. Elvhen words used in this chapter: 
> 
> Ma serannas - Thank you  
> ma’hallain - an endearment that means roughly "my little halla"  
> lethal’lan - dear one; literally means "my blood kin" 
> 
> Translations taken from this work: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883/chapters/8162043 Ma serannas to Fenxshiral for their amazing lexicon!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading <3


	8. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Co. return to Haven from Val Royeaux. Solas gets a little wolf-y.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically the Cullen v. Roderick scene happens before Val Royeaux in the game, BUT I had an idea that woke me up in the middle of the night and wouldn't let me go back to sleep so I moved it in this story's timeline. Enjoy!

Their return to Haven from Val Royeaux was chaotic. Ellana was mobbed by petitioners almost as soon as she stepped through the gates. Their pain and confusion and need rolled off them in waves as they put forth their requests. She was doing her best to answer them all, but the furrow in her brow told him she was getting overwhelmed. His jaw clenched in frustration.

He moved up beside her, attempting to create a buffer between her and the growing crowd. “Please, allow her through! The Herald has business to attend to!” He pitched his voice loud enough to be heard over their jumbling shouts, trying for firm but not unkind. “Your needs will be met as soon as the Inquisition can attend to them. Please submit a request for whatever you require with the quartermaster!”

She smiled at him gratefully, which gave him the courage to take her elbow gently and part the crowd with his staff. The people subsided, finally, and they were able to make their way up the pathway to the chantry. Yet another crowd was gathered before the doors, and the energy rolling off this one was far more intense, a noxious mix of fear, anger, wrath, and _pride_ that felt all too familiar to him. The tightness in his jaw intensified, and apparently so did his grip on Ellana’s arm, if the look of concern she directed at him was any indication. He forced himself to release her and focused on regaining his composure.

The crowd’s attention was turned towards two men near the center who were engaged in a shouting match, each blaming the other for the death of the Divine. One, a former Templar, reached for his blade. Commander Cullen stepped up before the man could draw it, arresting his motion with a gesture and a glare. He stood between the two men, shouting himself. It was a decent attempt to de-escalate the situation, but the commander’s own anger was feeding into the crowd.

And then, it got worse.

One or two of the people on the outer edge of the crowd noticed them approach and began to comment.

“The Herald!”

“That’s her? I thought she’d be taller.”

“Blessed of Andraste!”

Their comments soon turned the attention of the entire crowd upon them. He found himself stepping slightly in front of Ellana, almost but not quite pushing her behind him. Cassandra noticed the energy of the crowd as well and moved up to flank Ellana from the other side. She had not yet drawn her shield but held herself in a ready stance.

The tension mounted as they all stared at each other for a few seconds.

“Ah, yes, the _Herald_ ,” a voice dripping with disdain rang out over the crowd, who parted to reveal its source. A small, older human man in clergy robes strode up, somehow managing to be at once arrogant and sniveling. Solas’ lip curled in a barely contained snarl.

“But what has she done, hmm?” the man continued. “Nothing! Less than nothing! The Breach remains, and more people die every day from the demons it spews forth!” He was directly in front of Ellana now, sneering in her face. “What do you plan to do with your holy power, _Herald_? How do you plan to save us all?”

Solas was surging forward before he could spare a thought for what he was doing, pushing the clergyman back from her with sheer force of will. “You pompous fool!” he snarled. “She has done nothing but _protect_ you people as best she can, and this is how you thank her?”

Clearly the man was not used to being challenged so forthrightly. He stammered a non-reply as he retreated several steps, hands coming up in a gesture of surrender. Solas took the ground the man relinquished, inches from striking the man bodily with his clenched fists.

The soft touch of her hand on his arm caused the realization of what he had just done, what he had been about to do, to break over him like an icy wave. He immediately withdrew to the edge of the crowd, forcing himself to push the wolf inside him back into the humble-apostate box he had created for it. He barely succeeded.

Ellana stepped forward towards the doors of the chantry as she began to address the assembly, her voice strong and confident. “People of Haven! I have made no claims to holiness.” She removed her glove and held her left hand aloft. “I do not know why this was given to me, or from whence it came! But I do not need the answers to those questions to know this: I will use whatever power it gives me to save as many lives as I can,” she declared. She gave a small shrug, apologetic. “I may not be the ‘Herald of Andraste,’ but I _will_ be a herald of peace!”

His heart swelled with pride, as enchanted by her as the crowd who was now cheering her. The chancellor withdrew, defeated, and Cullen took the opportunity to urge the gathered throng to disperse back to their various duties. They did so, albeit reluctantly.

Ellana glanced at him while she was replacing her glove, expression concerned and more than a little confused. He gave a quick, negative jerk of his head and moved off towards his borrowed cabin. He would not have been able to speak to her coherently just then, he knew. Thankfully, she took his meaning and did not follow.

He slammed the door behind him and seethed, pacing back and forth across the wooden floor of the cabin. He was consumed by his desire to _protect her_ , make her safe, keep her whole. He had not felt this way about anyone since --

Another wave of realization crested over him, and he broke out into a cold sweat.

 _Mythal_. He had not felt this way since her death. Since his failure.

The pieces snapped into place with remarkable clarity. _Of course_ , how had he not put it together before? It had been Mythal’s foci, Mythal’s power he had inherited, that had placed the mark upon her. It must contain some aspect of Mythal herself, not her whole soul, certainly, but a fragment, a remnant. He knew of one other such remnant that existed, that had endured all these many thousands of years, anchoring his lady to this world even as she was physically absent from it.

He let out a breathy laugh, relief flooding through him. Small wonder he was so drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. She had Mythal’s scent all over her. And he was Mythal’s wolf.

He, quite literally, could not help himself.

He sank down onto his bed, suddenly exhausted from the extreme swing from barely controlled rage to elation. It was not _her_ he was attracted to, it was the similarities she shared with his lady, the one person to whom he had devoted his life. He could move forward with his plan, knowing that the remnant inside Ellana would never be broken off from the whole in the first place. Ellana would never exist. But Mythal would return. All would be well again. He could endure a while longer. He was still doing the right thing, he was still able to repair the damage his foolishness had caused. His lips curved into a soft smile as he allowed himself to drift into the Dreaming, secure in the knowledge that his purpose was restored.


	9. Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does that classic song go? "99 quests in the Hinterlands, 99 quests in the Hinterlands" 
> 
> Happens directly after the events of last chapter. Lavellan gets snarky. Solas apologizes (ikr?). Lavellan has a dream.

They spent the next several days in the Hinterlands, helping the refugees where they could, running errands and putting out fires – sometimes literally. Ellana empathized with the people who lived in this region of Ferelden; they had only just begun to build themselves back up after the ravages of the Blight and now this was tearing everything back down again. It was not dissimilar to the experiences of her own people, for whom survival, not establishment, was the chief concern. They had learned that whatever they built for themselves, the humans would take, after Halamshiral and the Exalted March.

So she did what she could to help, as much as possible, with the assistance of Cassandra, Varric, and Solas. She gathered blankets, hunted rams for food, returned missing belongings stolen from their rightful owners. She rescued Inquisition scouts who got caught up by roving groups of bandits, apostates, and Templars. She found and dealt with the leaders of the rival factions who had encamped themselves on opposite sides of the region and put a stop to the constant free-for-all, giving the refugees a little bit of breathing room.

And everywhere they went, the Inquisition followed, establishing a foothold, and bringing stability where it could. People began to greet them with grateful shouts in general and her with reverent, breathy prayers in particular. She hated it, but if allowing them to believe what they wanted gave them any small spark of hope, she could put aside her personal feelings about it. As she was learning, what was most true was not always what was most helpful, no matter what her books told her.

Though her vallaslin and her dress marked her very obviously as Dalish, she met astonishingly little open hostility from the humans she was helping, a pleasant and welcome surprise. She began to feel that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to help her people through all this mess.

Solas had reverted to being exactingly polite but distant ever since the scene in Haven. Ellana appreciated his motive in standing up for her, but it had been very …intense. And strange. She did not mention it, however; she wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

She was a little hurt by his behavior; they had seemed to be building something after their shared memory-dream, if not a friendship exactly then at least a congenial rapport. Had she done something to indicate she wanted him to back off? Or offended him somehow? Maybe he had simply decided she was like all the other Dalish he had met, and wanted nothing to do with her. Then, sometimes, she would catch him looking in her direction, his face inscrutable. Whenever he noticed she was returning his gaze, he would turn away and busy himself with something else.

Ellana was not exactly very experienced in friendship or relationships outside her clan. Combined with his general strangeness, it was difficult for her to read his intentions.

The third night they spent in the Hinterlands, he approached her as she was eating her supper.

“Herald, might I have a word?”

She continued chewing the morsel in her mouth as she squinted up at him, taking her time. He stood in stoic silence, waiting. Finally, she swallowed and cleared her throat.

“Hmm, the first time you’ve actually talked to me in days, this should be interesting.” She put aside her bowl and spoon and regarded him with an exaggerated air of inquisitive politeness. “What can I do for you, Solas?”

He frowned, nonplussed by her behavior. He chose not to address it directly, however. “I have been researching the Breach, and my observations have led me to believe that there is an ancient elvhen artifact nearby that is meant to strengthen wards.”

She hmm-ed and tapped her fingers against her chin, eyes wider than they really needed to be.

He cleared his throat. “I believe they would be helpful in strengthening the Veil, making new rifts less likely.”

“Oh, well then we _must_ make that a priority,” she said magnanimously, reaching for her map and quill. “Where is it?”

His frown deepened but he pointed to a location on her map which she promptly marked. “You are irritated with me.”

“Oh, what gave that away?” She folded the map and put it back in her pack.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. She returned his stare.

“Have I given offense?” he finally broke the standoff.

She dropped the mocking tone. “Not directly, no.”

“Indirectly then?”

“It’s just…” she bit her lip. “I thought we might be friends. And then you go all – “she waved a hand, gesturing at all of him. “Cold,” she finished.

“Ah,” he said. “May I?” he gestured to the bench she was sitting on and she moved to make room for him to sit beside her.

“I just … if I did something or said something and you don’t want to be friends anymore, that’s okay. It would just be nice to be sure. Instead of guessing.” She looked down at her feet.

“I owe you an apology,” he said softly. “I have been…distracted of late. I thought it might be helpful to focus on the task at hand.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. She frowned at him. “You could’ve just _said_ that you know.”

That drew a small laugh from him. “ _Ir abelas_ , I have not made a friend in a long time.”

“What about your spirit friends?”

“They are much less complex.”

“Will you tell me about them?” she ventured. She had noticed he seemed to like it when she asked questions.

“What would you like to know?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you have a best friend?” She looked down again, rubbing a toe in the dirt. “I used to, but she died at the Conclave.”

“I am sorry.”

“She is at peace now.” Ellana gave a soft laugh. “I do wish I could hear what she would have to say about all this, sometimes.”

“What was she like?”

“Oh, pretty much the opposite of me. She was one of our best hunters. Very go-and-do while I was very stay-and-read. But she always brought me the best parts of her kills to eat. ‘You’re too skinny, Ellana’, she’d say. ‘You have too many muscles, Ghillen’ I’d reply, and we would laugh.” she smiled at the memory. “She was afraid for me, being sent to a shemlen gathering on my own. She wanted to protect me.” 

“She sounds lovely,” he said softly. “And I venture that she would be glad you survived, and proud of how well you are representing your people.”

She stilled as his hand rested on her back. The contact was warm and comforting and not at all unwelcome. After a moment, she leaned into his side, testing the bounds of the fragile truce they had reached. He allowed it, sliding his arm fully around her. _Oh._ She chanced a look at his face. The warmth radiating from his eyes was too much and she immediately looked back down at the ground.

She had not thought things could get _more_ confusing. She cleared her throat. “But I interrupted. You were going to tell me about your friends?”

He considered for a moment before answering. “If I was to say I had a ‘best friend’, it would probably be Wisdom.”

“Oh, you mentioned them before, I think. They are rare, aren’t they?”

“Correct. The particular one I refer to is incredibly old. They have shown me many wonderful things.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said. “How do you meet spirits?”

“Why? Do you wish to?”

“It sounds like an extremely exciting experience. And if they can teach people things, I’d love to learn,” she replied.

“Perhaps, one day, I will introduce you.”

Ellana risked another look at his face, which was awfully close to her own. He really was remarkably handsome, in his own way. She was not sure how she did not notice before. “I’d like that.”

His eyes searched hers for a moment, then he withdrew his arm and stood. “We should get some rest.”

“Oh, yes, we probably should.” She stood as well, concentrating on dusting off her coat. “Good night, Solas.”

“Good night, Ellana.” He gave a small bow and moved off though their camp.

***

She dreamed of Ghillen that night.

She was walking through her dream-memory-forest, contemplative, practicing letting her mind wander and the Fade do what it would with what it found in her unconscious. There was a noise, to her left, a rustling in the underbrush she was not aware she had created.

Ghilly’s head popped out suddenly, a look of consternation on her face. “Ela!” she hissed. “Get down, you’re scaring off the game!”

Ghilly was so insistent and the scene was so familiar that Ellana forgot she was dreaming momentarily and hurried to comply, scrabbling down into the underbrush beside her. Ghilly held one finger to her lips and Ellana nodded. She looked just as Ellana remembered her: nut brown skin, fine-boned features under short cropped dark hair that stuck out from the sides of her head unkempt. Gold-hazel eyes glimmered as Ghilly scanned the forest in front of them, trying to spot her prey.

Tears-that-were-not-tears brimmed in Ellana’s eyes as she studied the features of her _ma’ahsa_ , a face she had not thought she would ever see again so clearly. Impulsively, she reached out and took Ghilly’s hand. It was warm, solid. Almost real.

Ghilly looked down at their hands and cocked an eyebrow at her. “We’ve been over this,” she whispered. “If you’re going to insist on coming on my hunts you have got to keep your hands to yourself, _emma lath_.” The admonishment was softened when she smiled and lifted Ellana’s hand to her lips and pressed a small kiss to her palm.

“Ghillen,” Ellana started but her throat tightened, and she could not continue.

Ghilly’s expression grew concerned. “What is wrong, Ela?” she asked softly, her hunt forgotten.

“I …you died. You’re dead. You died for me.” The words tumbled out before she could think about the illogic of telling a dream-shade of her lover that she was dead.

“Oh. Well that’s not great,” Ghilly responded, tilting her head. Then she brightened a bit. “Was it a good fight? Did I kill lots of shems first?”

Ellana let out a small sound that was halfway between a laugh and sob. “Not exactly, _da’assan_ ,” she admitted.

“Oh. Well you’re not dead, right?”

Ellana hesitated. “No.”

“That’s good then. I did my job.” Ghilly squeezed her hand. “Don’t feel bad, _emma lath_. It wasn’t your fault.”

The dam broke, and Ghilly’s arms were around her shoulders as Ellana sobbed into her hands. “It’s not fair,” she wailed. “Why was it me, and not you?”

“Well duh, Ela.” Ghilly’s comforting tone didn’t match her words. “You are way smarter than me, so if anyone needs to be alive to figure out what’s going on, it’s you.”

“I am not as strong as you,” Ellana protested. “I can’t keep this up.”

“Yes, you are. And you can.” Ghilly’s arms tightened around her. “You are the strongest person I know. You can do anything, Ela. _Anything_.”

“Someone told me that’s what my name means,” she said.

“Oh?”

“’She who can do anything’, supposedly.”

Ghilly nodded and pressed a kiss to Ellana’s temple. “I like it. I always thought it suited you well but now I know why.” She pulled back and looked at Ellana quizzically. “Who told you that?”

“A…new friend. He’s helping me solve the problem that killed you.”

Ghilly searched her eyes for a moment. “Oh, I think I see.” She moved her hands to either side of Ellana’s face, and kissed her forehead gently, and then her nose, and then finally, her mouth. It was soft, sweet, a release, a benediction. Permission. “ _Emma lath_ , find comfort where you can.”

Ellana’s brow knit in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Ghilly smiled sadly. “I am gone, and you need to live. I’ll always be with you, you are my home. If you are able, don’t let my memory stop you from being happy.”

“Ghillen –”

Ghilly cut her off with another soft kiss. “No, Ela. I mean it.” She grinned. “Don’t make me haunt you to play matchmaker.”

That drew a genuine laugh from Ellana. Ghilly had always been good at that, at making her laugh.

“You should wake up now, Ela. Live as much as you can, for me.” Ghilly took her hands and squeezed them again. “ _Ar lath ma. Dareth shiral_.”

Ellana awoke to find her pillow soaked with tears, but the quiet, secret ache that had been squeezing her heart had eased. She allowed herself a few more moments to cry, and then cleaned herself up and left her tent to face the new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ir abelas – I am sorry  
> ma’ahsa – girlfriend  
> emma lath – my love  
> da’assan ¬– “little arrow”, an endearing nickname for a hunter/huntress  
> Ar lath ma – I love you  
> Dareth shiral – a farewell, “Go safely on your journey”
> 
> Many thanks to Fenxshiral for their work on the elvhen language! https://archiveofourown.org/series/229061


	10. Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time bending, jokes, and Tevinters, oh my!

As Ellana emerged from her tent that morning, Cassandra approached her. “Herald, we have done much to aid the refugees here, and I am glad of it. But their troubles will only grow worse the longer we delay.”

Ellana nodded. “Yes, I agree. We’ve bandaged the wound, and it will hold for a time, but we need to cauterize it soon.”

“Have you an opinion on how we should proceed? I have my own, of course, but I wanted to see what you thought should we do, considering you will be at the forefront of whatever plan we come up with.”

“I do,” Ellana replied. “Before we decide anything, I think we should see what the Grand Enchanter has to say. We already know approaching the Templars will take a considerable effort and resources we may not have at our disposal yet. So, if she has a better offer, we should hear it.”

Cassandra hesitated. “I will go with you to this meeting, of course, but I urge you proceed with caution where the rebel mages are concerned.”

“More caution than you would recommend with the Templars?”

“I…yes,” Cassandra admitted. “I do not mean to offend. While the Lord Seeker is behaving strangely, the Templars are an _order_ , and much more predictable than a ragtag group of freedom fighters who can command the power to warp reality.”

“From what I have seen, the Templars are just as disorganized, at the moment. But I understand your concern, Cassandra. We will keep our eyes open when we are in Redcliffe.”

Cassandra nodded once in acknowledgement. “That is all I ask, Herald.”

The broke camp and made their way towards the town. Solas drew up beside her as they approached the village walls.

“May I have a word?” he asked quietly. He slowed his pace to move them farther from the others. Ellana matched him, curious what he did not want them to hear.

“Is something wrong?”

“I am not sure,” he admitted. “My dreams were troubled last night. Spirits came to me to warn me of strange magic in the area, of a kind I have not seen or felt before.”

“Of course, there is,” Ellana muttered. “Can I just solve one problem without eight more springing up to take its place?”

Solas chuckled. “It seems not.” Growing serious again, he continued. “I will keep alert to any changes in the Veil. But you needed to know before we attend this meeting that something strange is happening.”

“Why the whispers, though?”

“Our Lady Seeker is already distrustful of the mages. I did not want to give her another reason to be anxious.”

“She is rather twitchy, where they are concerned,” Ellana observed.

Then, several things happened at once.

Ellana’s skin begin to itch, as if she was covered in ants. She involuntarily began running her hands up and down her arms and saw that her mark was flaring with bright light, as if they were near a rift. Then she heard shouting up ahead on the path.

“Keep an eye on that thing! I want to know the second anything comes out of it! And stay _back_ from it, for the love of Andraste!” A gruff female voice echoed off the walls.

Ellana frowned up at Solas. “Do you feel this?”

“Yes. Something is very wrong here. The Veil is not just weak here, it’s been twisted, folded in on itself.”

“I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Neither did I.” His admission disturbed her more than she cared to admit. What were they about to walk into, if even he did not know what was happening?

Cassandra and Varric were already running around the bend in the road to see what was going on. They heard Cassandra shout “Herald! A rift!” and ran to follow.

It _was_ a rift, right in front of the gates to Redcliffe. The buzzing against her skin intensified. She readied her staff and began to cast but faltered as her eyes caught up to what was playing out before her.

Cassandra and Varric were closer to the rift, trying to fight the demons spewing forth from it. Their movements were strange, the normal reflexive flow of battle slowed to a snail’s pace. It was as if Cassandra was trying to swing her sword through something solid rather than just air. An instant after she registered this, something shifted, and the opposite was true; her companions were moving with an alacrity that even Cassandra’s lifetime of intense training could not achieve. Varric fired and reloaded six times in the space of a breath. Cassandra slashed through three wisps in the next heartbeat.

“Solas!” Ellana shouted. “What is wrong with them?”

“I do not know! Close the rift! It seems to be the source!”

Of course, she should have thought of that herself. Ellana raised her left hand and focused, connecting the power, hoping it would work the same as the other rifts she had closed in the past few days. Thankfully, it did, the seam knitting together in the air and collapsing in with a loud cracking noise. Cassandra and Varric looked around, confused but moving normally again.

Ellana sighed in relief and shook her hand out. “Never going to get used to that sensation, I don’t think,” she panted.

“Well done,” Solas said. “That was fascinating, I have not yet seen a rift effect the flow of time around itself in such a fashion.”

“Time?” Ellana gaped at him. “Now I have to deal with the Breach altering the flow of _time_ as well?” She threw up her hands. “No, I refuse. This is too much bullshit for one person.” 

Solas frowned. “It should not be affecting such things” he mused to himself.

 _Should not be?_ Ellana wondered. A strange way to refer to a power one claimed not to understand. She filed that away for later. They needed to get to the bottom of whatever was happening in Redcliffe, first.

A reedy, teenage elf approached them as soon as they entered the town. “You are agents of the Inquisition, yes?” he asked eagerly.

Ellana looked him over, noting the lack of vallaslin markings and his patchwork robes. A rebel Circle mage then. “Yes, we are,” she answered. “And you are?”

“My name is Lysas. I was sent to greet you and to inform you the circumstances of your meeting have changed.”

“Oh, have they now.” Ellana said flatly.

The young elf faltered. “Uh, yes. You have arrived sooner than expected, and Magister Alexius is not yet come down from the castle to meet you. You can speak to the Grand Enchanter, in the meantime. She awaits you at the Gull and Lantern, just off the central square.” He pointed in the appropriate direction.

“Fine. Tell the Grand Enchanter we will be along presently,” she said to the messenger, who then scurried off.

Ellana looked back at her party, gauging their reactions. Cassandra was scowling but silent. Varric was holding Bianca, pointed at the ground for the moment, and his eyes were darting around, looking for danger. Solas was still muttering to himself and frowning.

Right, then. They felt the same as she did: something was very, very wrong here.

“Did you hear him say ‘magister’?” she asked them.

Cassandra nodded. “What is a Tevinter magister doing in Ferelden? And Redcliffe, no less?”

“He would have had to have begun his journey weeks ago to be here now. What was his purpose in coming? And why did the arl not deny him entry? Ferelden has no treaties with Tevinter now, do they?”

“Not that I was aware, but Josephine would know better.”

“Hmm.” Ellana contemplated. Time magic, a Tevinter magister, and the rebel mages in one place. Not a good combination. “Let’s go. Maybe Grand Enchanter Fiona can shed some light on what exactly is going on here.”

A general aura of unease permeated the village. Ellana saw mages milling about, mingling with the refugees and being avoided by the townsfolk. The Gull and Lantern turned out to be a two-story building, containing a tavern on the ground floor and some rooms for rent above the bar. The interior was dim and dusty, and smelled of sweat and alcohol and cooking meats. A bard plucked the strings of her lute in one corner. It looked like the tavern was doing brisk business for mid-day, and then Ellana noticed that nearly everyone inside was dressed in robes. A hush fell over the crowded tables as they entered the room.

“Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” the Grand Enchanter’s softly accented voice lifted above the murmuring. “What brings you to Redcliffe?”

Ellana blinked at her. “Is that a trick question? You asked to meet me here.”

“I do not believe we have ever met before, Herald of Andraste.”

Ellana stared at her. “You approached me in Val Royeaux.”

“You must be mistaken, my lady,” Fiona said apologetically. “I have not been to Val Royeaux since before the conclave.”

“No. I am certain it was you,” Ellana said firmly. She waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. “It doesn’t matter. I have questions about what is going on here. And I need magic to help seal the Breach. Can you help with either?”

Grand Enchanter Fiona sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, I cannot. As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to treat with you. You will have to speak to Magister Alexius when he returns.”

“Indentured to a magister?” Cassandra blurted. “When? How?”

“That was a most foolish decision,” Solas declared. “I understand you are afraid, but there is no succor to be found in Tevinter.”

“Grand Enchanter, when exactly did this Magister arrive in Redcliffe?” Ellana asked.

Fiona frowned and rubbed her forehead. “It was…he was here when we arrived after fleeing the conclave. He and his mages fought off the Templars that were pursuing us and offered us his protection. I did not see I had any other options, at the time.”

“And a good thing I was here in time!” A new voice declared from behind Ellana. Two men were entering the tavern, both dressed in the odd, angular styles favored by the Tevinter upper class. The older of the two was the one who had spoken. His craggy features and deep-set eyes were shadowed by the hood he wore, which Ellana knew marked his status as a member of the magisterium, the ruling body of the Tevene government.

“Magister Alexius, I presume?” she asked dryly.

He gave a small bow. “Herald of Andraste, I have heard so many things about you. It is an honor to meet you in person.”

Ellana crossed her arms and regarded him coolly. “What do you want with the rebel mages? How does this ‘alliance’ benefit you?”

Alexius smiled broadly; if he was put off by her tone, he did not show it. “Admittedly, there are no immediate benefits for Tevinter at present. But I am confident that once the southern mages complete their indenture and training, they will be a boon addition to our armies.”

“You said not all of my people would have to be military! There are children, those not suited –” Fiona’s protests were stilled by a glare from Alexius.

“And I am sure,” Alexius said, voice tight, “That they will all be productive citizens of the Imperium, in time.”

Fiona subsided and stepped back; her face troubled.

Alexius returned his attention to Ellana. “Now, you need help sealing the Breach. An ambitious goal, and one sure to require a great deal of magic to accomplish.”

“Well when one is faced with the end of the world, one can’t afford to think small,” Ellana quipped.

“I suppose not,” Alexius chuckled. He gestured to a nearby table. “Shall we?”

Ellana took the offered chair. Her companions hung back, letting her take the lead on the negotiation, save for Solas, who moved to stand just behind her chair. She glanced up at him, but he did not look at her, too busy scrutinizing the magister’s every movement.

“I’m curious, Alexius,” Ellana said. “What _is_ a member of the magisterium doing in the Ferelden countryside, exactly? Shopping for a summer home?”

Solas barely contained a snort of amusement.

Alexius glowered at her. “I had other business in the area. The same could be asked of you, a Dalish elf. Why have you joined a religious organization run by humans, one wonders?”

Ellana wiggled the fingers of her left hand. “Fate and circumstance didn’t give me much choice, you see.”

“Indeed.”

Ellana leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Alright, Alexius. I need mages to seal the Breach. What do you want?”

“A great many things, as I am sure –” he was interrupted as the second man approached the table.

“Excuse me, father,” the man said, and now that Ellana looked at him she could see that he was a younger – and nicer looking – version of the magister. He was dressed in similar clothing to his father, but without a hood.

“Forgive me, Herald! I neglected to introduce my son, Felix,” Alexius exclaimed. “He has been most eager to meet you, as well.”

Ellana stood to greet the young man. “Nice to meet you, Felix.”

Felix bowed deeply. “My lady, I –” he doubled over, and began to sway. Solas moved to step in between them but Ellana was quicker. She reached out to steady the young man, and he grabbed her hand tightly. Ellana felt him press a small piece of paper into her palm. Felix met her eyes, pleading with her to remain silent. Something in his face was kind, honorable, and she trusted him immediately. She gave a small nod.

Felix smiled gratefully. “My apologies, my lady. I am not feeling well.”

Alexius stood quickly. “Felix!” he exclaimed, moving toward him. “Did you take your medicines this morning?”

Felix affected sheepishness. “I may have forgotten, Father.”

“Let’s get you back to the castle,” Alexius said gently. He turned to Ellana. “I am sorry, Herald; we will need to continue this at another time.”

“Of course,” Ellana replied, stepping back beside Solas.

“Fiona!” Alexius all but barked at the Grand Enchanter. “Your services are needed at the castle.” Ellana was certain that if she had not been standing there, he would have snapped his fingers as if calling a dog to his side. They, along with a large portion of the mages who had been populating the tavern, made their way outside.

When she was sure they were gone, Ellana moved to a corner table where she would not be easily observed and unfolded the small paper. “Come to the Chantry. You are in danger,” she read aloud.

The irritated wrinkle between Solas’ brows deepened. “That is almost certainly a trap.”

Ellana snorted. “You think?” She drummed her fingers on the table. “No, actually, I think it’s legitimate.”

“You do?” Solas raised an eyebrow at her.

“That was the magister’s son. Why would he slip me a note in secret and make sure his father didn’t see?” She stood. “We’re going. It’s a lead worth investigating, at the least.”

“This is not wise,” Solas protested.

“Maybe not,” Ellana allowed. She grinned mischievously. “But if it’s bad, you’ll be there to protect me, right?” She turned and headed towards the door, not giving him a chance to answer.

***

Ellana was hard-pressed to decide which thing she found in the Chantry was most surprising: the open rift in the middle of the sanctuary, or the ridiculously handsome man fighting the demons pouring out of it. He dispatched a shade with a final thwack of his staff and grinned at her.

“Ah! You’re finally here! Help me close this, would you?” His voice was far too jovial for being in the midst of battle.

Ellana sighed, and they leapt into action. More of those bubbles of time-shifting energy were swirling around this rift, and they took care to avoid them. Once the demons were slowed, Ellana reached up and pulled the rift shut. The man walked over and peered at her marked hand.

“ _Fascinating_ , how does that work exactly?”

“It –” Ellana began, but he charged ahead before she could finish.

“You don’t even know, do you? You just wriggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.”

“I mean, pretty much, yes,” Ellana admitted. “The same magic that made it, made the Breach. And the Breach causes the rifts. Ergo wriggly-fingers.”

The man let out a belly laugh. “Amazing. You southerners never cease to surprise me!”

“Glad I could amuse you,” Ellana said flatly. “I assume you are the one who sent the note?”

He bowed slightly. “I am. But surely you realized you were in danger without it.”

“Oh, yes. That was obvious,” Ellana agreed. “But who are you, exactly?”

“Ah! Getting ahead of myself again, I see.” He bowed again, deeper this time. “Dorian of House Pavus, at your service. Most recently of Minrathous.”

“Another Tevinter,” Cassandra warned. “Mind what you tell him, Herald.”

“Suspicious friends you have!” Dorian observed. Then his expression sobered. “Listen. You need my help. Alexius was once my mentor. I know what he’s been up to.”

“Something to do with altering time, right?” Ellana guessed.

Dorian looked startled. “How did you know that?”

Ellana shrugged. “Again, pretty obvious. The biggest clue is the fact that Alexius was somehow here, two days after the conclave, ready to swoop upon the refugee mages. Also, the time-bending around the rifts in Redcliffe gives it away.”

“Yes, and those time-bending rifts will spread, further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable. He must be stopped.” He regarded her with a tilt of his head. “You are remarkable,” he added. “Not many would have been able to put those pieces together and guess correctly.”

“Our Herald is possessed of striking intellect,” Solas interjected.

“Yes, I can see that,” Dorian replied. “Well, even though you know what it is, you don’t know how it works. I do. I helped Alexius develop it. But when I worked for him, it was only a theory. He never got it to work.”

“Can you reverse the effects?” Ellana asked.

“Possibly. I am not sure that is the wisest course, at this juncture. Things have already been changed irreparably in ways we cannot possibly imagine. It would likely do more harm than good to revert back now.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like this. Every action, inaction, choice made, word spoken: it all adds up to make reality. Going back in time automatically alters the fabric of reality in a thousand little ways, even if all one does with that power is go to the tavern for a drink.”

“Oh, I see. We have no way to know exactly how or what Alexius has changed by being here, or how to fix it.”

Dorian nodded. “Better to deal with the reality we have now, than try to go back and fix things. But I can stop him from altering it further if he tries to do so.” He folded his arms. “What I can’t figure out is why. It’s a little extreme to alter time to gain a few hundred new lackeys.”

“He didn’t do it for them,” Felix’s voice echoed in the now mostly empty sanctuary.

Dorian smiled at him. “Took you long enough!” His brow furrowed in concern. “Is he getting suspicious?”

“No,” Felix replied. “But I should have known better than to play the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” He turned to Ellana. “My father has joined a cult of Tevinter supremacists called the Venatori. I don’t know why, but they are obsessed with you.”

“With me?” Ellana’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yes,” Felix confirmed. “Their leader, someone they called the Elder One, wants you dead very badly.”

“That figures,” Ellana muttered. “Hole in the sky, time bending, and now assassination plots. Just a Tuesday, really.”

“Maybe because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?” Felix guessed. “All I know is his only goal has been to get to you.”

“You can close the rifts,” Dorian mused. “Maybe that has something to do with it?”

“Whatever he wants can’t be good,” Ellana said. “Something named “the Elder One” is not a being that asks you over just to have tea.”

“No, that kind of pomposity is reserved for evil schemers,” Dorian rejoined. “Evil schemers typically hate tea. I’m from Tevinter; I know.”

“Alright, now why are you two helping me? You’re his son, and you were his apprentice.” Ellana looked back and forth between them.

“Did you miss the cult part? Or the “unraveling reality” part?” Dorian quipped.

“My father is in over his head,” Felix said. “He was – is—a good man. I want to stop him, if I can, make him see what he is doing.”

“Does it have to do with your illness?” Ellana guessed.

Felix nodded. “I think so. He’s never really come to terms with the fact that I am dying. He may be looking for a cure or have been promised one.”

“I’m sorry,” Ellana said. “Is there anything we can do to help with that?”

Felix shook his head. “I’m past wanting a cure. There are worse things than dying. Please, if you can help get through to my father, I would be in your debt.”

Ellana looked at both men, born of an empire that had enslaved and tortured her people for centuries. By all rights, she should kill them both and then every other Tevinter in Ferelden. Yet, she trusted them. Their explanations made sense – well, whatever sense an explanation involving time-altering magic could make – and their earnestness and sincerity radiated from their faces. These were men with nothing to hide, who had taken a great risk to ask for her help. She couldn’t turn them away.

“We will definitely be talking to your father,” Ellana confirmed. “Thank you for your help.”

“I’ll be in touch. When you talk to Alexius, I want to be there,” Dorian said.

Ellana nodded. “Agreed. I'll let you know.”


	11. Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude between the two halves of In Hushed Whispers.

They sent word with one of Leliana’s people back to Haven to advise them of developing events. While they were awaiting a reply, they took rooms at the Gull and Lantern, not wanting to leave in case something new happened in the interim and Ellana would be needed. The four of them settled into a corner table to discuss the situation over dinner.

Cassandra shook her head in disgust. “This is too much. We should just leave and approach the Templars.”

“Leave?” Varric protested. “We can’t leave these people to fend for themselves against a magister!” He lowered his voice. “Especially one that is _unraveling time._ ”

“I agree with Master Tethras,” Solas said. “This situation cannot be allowed to stand.”

“You said ‘it should not be doing that’ when we first saw the time-bending, Solas,” Ellana asked. “What did you mean?”

Solas cleared his throat. “Only that the only effects we’ve seen from the Breach have been limited to the Veil and the Fade. Time is a separate category altogether.”

Ellana squinted at him. “It’s not that much of a reach. And none of us have seen magic of this sort before, so who’s to say it’s not supposed to effect time?”

“The helpful young men we just met, for one,” Solas pointed out. “They confirmed it was the machinations of this Alexius, attempting to get to you.” His knuckles whitened on the tankard of mulled wine he was holding.

“True,” Ellana allowed. She sipped her ale, contemplating. “So, anyone got any theories on who or what an ‘Elder One’ is?”

“Probably a power-hungry Tevinter magister,” Cassandra said. “They are all grasping, conniving, greedy men and women who will stop at nothing to increase their own power.”

“Ever been to Tevinter, Seeker?” Varric asked casually.

“No,” she admitted. “But I have seen the effects of their abuses of power enough to know that.”

“Well that Dorian fellow seems decent,” Varric noted. “He doesn’t seem like your typical magister, for sure.”

“He isn’t a magister,” Ellana interjected.

“I thought that’s what they called them in Tevinter?” Varric asked.

“Common misunderstanding. A magister is a member of the Magisterium, the most powerful part of their government. The fact that all of the members of the Magisterium happen to be mages is where people get confused,” Ellana explained.

Varric cocked his head at her. “Have _you_ been to Tevinter then, Red?”

Ellana grinned and shook her head. “Not even close.” She took a drink. “I read a lot. Dalish don’t have libraries, obviously, so I had to take what I could get when we met merchants on the road. I managed to find a volume of Brother Genetivi’s work on the Imperium when I was twelve.”

“Genetivi? That bone-dry hack?” Varric looked astonished. “You were reading him as a _child?_ ”

Ellana laughed. “I told you, I had to take what I could get! Keeper Deshanna would never have approved me reading _Hard in Hightown_ , anyway.” She winked at him. “Not that she approved of anything I read that wasn’t Dalish. Which is everything.”

“How were you able to study if your Keeper did not approve?” Solas asked.

“Well, when I say she didn’t approve I mean that she would have rather I spent my time doing other things, like praying to the Creators. She respected that I wanted to learn as much as I could, and use that knowledge to help the clan survive another generation.” She looked down into her tankard. “So much of the harm done to my people results from our own ignorance. Knowing what is offensive and what isn’t or how best to approach a group of non-Dalish travelers can mean the difference between life and death.”

“An enlightened view,” Solas commended. “Most Dalish I have met have not been so open-minded. Nor have they been able to acknowledge their own part in their suffering.”

“I’ll admit, you are the only Dalish I have ever met,” Cassandra put in. “I am pleased to know such a fine example of your culture.”

Ellana blushed. “Thank you, Cassandra.”

“I hope that your example will lead to others confronting their ignorance,” the Seeker declared.

“That sounds like a toast if I’ve ever heard one!” Varric raised his tankard. They all bumped their tankards against his and drank.

***

Later that night, Ellana was having trouble sleeping, even despite the pleasant haze of the alcohol. Her mind wandered, replaying the days’ events, and imagining possible outcomes. Time magic. That was unexpected, to say the least. Nothing she had ever read about magic had ever mentioned it even being a possibility. That Alexius was able to research it long enough to get it to work was quite a feat.

When one has slaves to do everything difficult or tedious, one has enough _time_ to invent _time travel_ , she supposed.

This level of twisting plots was irritating from anyone, but Tevinter involvement set her teeth on edge. Her clan had taken in a couple of families who were originally from another clan, the only ones able to escape Tevene slavers who had raided their camp. Their stories were brutal reminders of the dangers of traveling too close to the Imperium’s borders.

And now an entire group of rebel mages was under the control of one of the highest-ranking noblemen in the Imperium. That much power amassed under one person was dangerous enough in peacetime, let alone in the current state of the world. And the snow capping this mountain of awful: the magister was a crazy death cultist who worshipped someone or something probably crazier than himself who wanted her dead.

Too much bullshit. She’d said it earlier, and it had only gotten worse as the day had progressed. She needed air.

Ellana pulled on her outer coat over her shift and opened the door to her room quietly. The second-floor hallway was dark, silent except for the faint echo of Varric’s snoring from behind his door. She smiled at the sound, turning to walk down the stairs.

Suddenly, her legs knocked against something, tripping her. She barely got her arms out in time to catch herself from slamming into the stone floor. She scrambled away from whatever it was, putting her back to the opposite wall, and threw up a barrier spell on instinct. The hallway glowed with pale blue light, the source of her stumbling illuminated.

“Peace,” Solas whispered, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “It is only me”

Panting from surprise and adrenaline, Ellana scowled at him and dropped the barrier. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Resting,” came the easy reply.

Ellana’s scowl deepened. “Outside my door. On the stone floor.”

“Yes,” he said, tone matter of fact. If he was embarrassed at all at having been discovered, she couldn’t tell.

Ellana let out a huff of breath as she stood. “You’re watching my room, making sure I am not abducted or killed in the night.” A statement, not a question.

There was a pause. “Yes,” he replied.

“If I tell you to stop, you will ignore me.” Another statement.

“Probably.”

Ellana sighed. “Well you can’t sleep on the stone floor. You’ll be useless tomorrow.” She pushed open the door to her room and stood to one side. “Come in.”

“I must admit, I was expecting to proceed through a few more stages of relationship before you invited me to your bed.”

Was he _flirting_ with her?

Ellana cocked an eyebrow at him. “I was thinking just in my room,” she said dryly, nodding to the small couch that was pushed against one wall. “But the bed is probably big enough to share, sure.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lady Herald,” he replied with a grin. “You need your beauty sleep.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have,” she replied.

“Have what?”

“Dreamt of it.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. The alcohol and the fact that it was so dark in the hallway helped with that.

He cleared his throat.

Ellana laughed quietly. “Just come in and take the couch, _arani_. I appreciate your thinking of me.”

“As you wish,” he agreed, and moved into the room. She followed him and shut the door quietly, her need of air forgotten.

She handed him one of the pillows and a blanket from the bed and they both settled down to rest. After a few moments, Ellana broke the silence.

“Well, this is not as awkward as I thought it would be.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “I have watched you sleep many times, remember? On some level you must be used to it.”

“I can’t recall if I ever properly thanked you for that,” Ellana said quietly.

“You did, the first time we ‘met’,” he assured her.

“I mean, I know I said, ‘thank you for not letting me die’. But really, you took a grave risk upon yourself, turning yourself in to Chantry forces. Under normal circumstances that would be highly dangerous. But when everyone is on edge from strange and uncontrolled magics?”

“It was possibly not the wisest choice, when put that way,” he admitted ruefully. “But the results were worth it.”

Ellana bit her lip. He kept doing that, leaving little breadcrumbs that possibly led to something. Small touches, the protective gestures, taking her hand in the dream forest, complimenting her. On the one hand, it was new and delicious and fascinating, and she wanted to encourage it. It wasn’t anything like how it was with Ghillen; their affection had been built in slow layers over many years, attraction born of knowing another person so completely that there was no uncertainty between you.

Solas was uncertainty personified. He was definitely not telling a large part of his story. To anyone. She knew next to nothing about him, only the carefully curated bits and pieces he let her see. He was older than she was, wiser. More experienced. Aloof. Arrogant, even.

And yet, the more reasons she could list why she _shouldn’t_ , the more she wanted to.

What would Ghillen have done if she had survived instead?

“Solas?”

“Hmm?”

“We might die anytime.”

“Well, that is certainly grim. But yes, it is possible.”

She took a deep breath. “So, what is going on between us?”

It was unbearably quiet for a long moment before he answered. “What do you want it to be?”

“Okay, I can’t do this in the dark anymore,” Ellana said, rolling into a sitting position. She focused on the candle wick and flame leapt up from it, filling the room with flickering light.

He was sitting upright on the couch, head leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. He was the very picture of restfulness, save for his eyes, which were open and watching her carefully.

“I’m sorry if I have misread, or if I’ve offended you. But ever since we met, I have felt some pull between us, and I am… the sort of person who needs things defined.”

He remained silent, listening.

She plunged ahead. “I’ve had one relationship. It was easy, natural. We just…knew. So this back and forth, these hints and maybes—” she shook her head. “I can’t deal with that. Not on top of everything else I have going on at the moment. So I guess what I am saying is, if you want to see if there is something here, I’m open to that. If not, that’s fine. I’ll drop it, and we don’t have to mention it again. I just need to know either way.”

He sat up from the wall, face serious. He spoke slowly, as if choosing each word carefully. “I will not deny that I find you…exceptional. I had not thought to meet –“ He shook his head, started again. “Were circumstances different, we could possibly walk this path and see where it led.” He spread his hands, apologetic. “As it is, I do not think it wise to …indulge ourselves in distractions.”

Ellana nodded her head quickly. “Oh, of course, you’re right. That – you’re right.” She looked at the floor, fingers twisting the end of her braid nervously. “I am sorry I brought it up.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said. “You were not wrong, exactly. It is just poor timing.”

“Right,” she said. “I guess we should try to rest then.”

He nodded to her once. “Good night.”

She didn’t return the sentiment, opting to simply blow out the candle and plunge them both back into comforting darkness once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went back and forth with this part a little more than I have with the rest of this story to get it where I was happy with it. As always, thank you so much for reading and your comments are a balm to my soul :)


	12. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Magic and Feels!

He was not protecting _her_.

He was protecting the power in her, the remnant shard of Mythal accidentally lodged in her hand. Another mistake he had to fix.

Why did he have to keep reminding himself of the difference?

He watched her as she walked up the road in front of him as they made their way to Castle Redcliffe. She carried herself with confidence, despite the danger they would soon be facing. The Inquisition – and specifically Ellana herself – had been invited to dine with the magister to continue negotiations regarding the mages and the Breach. The invitation was obviously a trap, a device to draw the Herald into his clutches to be turned over to his “Elder One.”

He barely suppressed a visible scoff at the banality of that invented title. No matter. He would deal with the so-called Elder One soon enough, the damage he himself had inadvertently caused by his miscalculation repaired and then repaired again.

Then he could move on to repairing the world and erasing the damage _that_ miscalculation had wrought.

He shook himself. He must remain present if he was to ensure they continued working toward his goal. This plan was foolish, too many variables and not enough information. He knew from experience that combination could be disastrous. They had contingencies in place, to be sure, but those were based on decades-old knowledge and the trustworthiness of a Tevene mage.

Not the best foundations for a plan he had participated in, but not the worst either if he was honest.

Their party – himself, Ellana, Cassandra, and Varric – were welcomed at the gates and escorted into the castle’s foyer. Their escort halted there, and the seneschal informed them, “Only the Herald was invited, your –” he paused as he eyed them all, “— _guards_ will remain here.”

Ellana raised an eyebrow. “No, I don’t think so. Where I go, they go,” she stated firmly. The man met her gaze for a moment and then withdrew, allowing them to pass.

He didn’t think anyone else was watching close enough to tell that Ellana’s hands were trembling slightly.

He recalled their conversation two nights previous. She had shown uncommon courage then, as well, confronting him directly and calling his indulgences into light. He had meant what he said; she was extraordinary. Bravery, intelligence, and wit, and underneath all that a resilience he had not thought to see again until his People were restored. Indeed, a part of him wished circumstances were different, that he was truly a humble apostate, and he could pursue her with the honesty and fervor she deserved.

It would be another regret added to a long list he had been keeping for millennia, another sacrifice he would have to make due to his mistakes.

They were led into the castle’s main hall. It was empty save for a single large chair, near to a throne, placed upon a dais in front of a roaring fire. The flames backlit the man seated upon it so that only his silhouette was visible as they approached. It was an effect intended to intimidate, to set the observer off on the wrong foot at the start.

In sharp contrast to the visual presentation, Magister Alexius rose with a smile as they approached. “My friend!” he greeted Ellana specifically. “I am so delighted to have you as guests in my home.”

Ellana did not seem affected. “Magister Alexius. We are humbled by your gracious invitation.” Her voice was tinged with just enough disdain to give the lie to her words. She tilted her head to one side. “Your home?” she asked. “I was under the impression the castle was home to the Arl of Redcliffe.”

“Until recently, you would be correct. Alas, the Arl has repaired to Denerim, for the time being.”

“Hmm,” Ellana said. “Well, shall we get started?”

“As you wish, Herald,” Alexius said smoothly. “What can I do for the Inquisition? I am sure we can come to an agreement to benefit both sides.”

“Are we to have no voice in this decision? No say in our own fate?” Grand Enchanter Fiona interrupted.

“You did cede that right to me under the terms of your indenture, Fiona,” Alexius reminded her. His tone could have been mistaken for gentle chiding if one ignored the irritation that passed through his eyes.

“I think we should include her,” Ellana said briskly. “She knows her people’s capabilities.”

The smile Alexius had plastered on his face tightened. “As you wish, Herald.” He returned to his seat, steepling his fingers together in front of his face. “What will you offer in exchange for the mages’ assistance?”

“Hmm,” Ellana tapped her chin as if considering. “I think ‘nothing’ is a good price. What do you think?”

“I wonder how you intend to accomplish such a feat.” The magister’s patience was waning; he was not a man used to such disrespect. Ellana had done more to unsettle him with a few words than the magister had been able to accomplish with advance notice and time to prepare the venue to his advantage.

“I’m sure I could figure something out. Maybe time travel magic?” Ellana mused. “That would likely be the most helpful, as we could go back and save the Divine! No explosion, no Breach. I go home, we have parties.” She turned to Fiona. “He taught you how to do that, right?”

Alexius’ face darkened. “I do not know what you mean,” he replied, voice taught.

“She knows everything, Father,” Felix said, stepping up next to the throne.

“Felix. What have you done?” Alexius hissed.

“He’s trying to help you,” Ellana interrupted. “You should listen to him.”

Alexius rounded on her, eyes burning with rage. “You dare to instruct _me_? You, with your stolen mark, a gift you don’t even understand! Your ignorance is offensive. Your only purpose is to serve the Elder One like everyone else, by dying in the right way!”

“Father, listen to yourself!” Felix begged. “Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds like every villainous cliché everyone always expects us to be.” Dorian emerged from the shadows.

“Dorian,” Alexius muttered, narrowing his eyes. “I should have known you would be involved.”

“Someone has to save you from yourself,” Dorian replied. “Alexius, this is precisely what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why are you doing this?”

Alexius turned to Felix. “The Elder One promised he would save you!”

“Save me?” Felix said. “You need to accept that I am going to die, Father.”

Alexius looked away from him and rubbed his face with his hands.

“Give up the Venatori, Father. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home,” Felix pleaded.

“But you’ll die.” The pain in the magister’s voice would have garnered sympathy. As it was, no one who would unravel the fabric of reality for their own ends deserved mercy.

 _Not even you_ , the voice in his mind reminded him.

Felix looked resigned. “Everything dies, Father.”

“No. I must undo the mistake at the Temple. I will save my son,” Alexius said firmly. “Venatori, seize them! The Elder One demands this one’s life!”

Around them, the Tevene guards started falling to the floor one by one, dead. Inquisition soldiers stepped out from the shadows to take their places.

“You’re finished, Alexius,” Dorian said sadly. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“No!” Alexius shouted and leapt to his feet. “I _will_ save my son!” He turned on Ellana. “You should never have existed!” he snarled. He was casting a spell before Solas could react. Dorian ran forward, attempting to counter the magic. A swirling green bubble emerged from an amulet in Alexius’ hands, expanding rapidly. It engulfed Ellana before she could step away.

“Herald!” Cassandra shouted from behind him. Solas shot out an arm to stop her running forward.

“Stay back, we don’t know what that will do!”

Dorian abandoned his attempt to counter the magic and leapt into the bubble after Ellana. It shrank to a pinprick behind him, closing with a snap of power.

She was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This chapter, and its follow up being posted concurrently, gave me a little trouble. I had to let them sit for a few days in my brain while I decided exactly how I wanted them to go. I hope you enjoy the results as much as I do :)
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and your comments GIVE ME LIFE <3
> 
> PS I have a writing playlist for this fic/Solavellan in general. Let me know if you all are interested and I will post a link to it in a future chapter!


	13. Ellana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Magic and Feels Part Deux!

She barely had enough time to register that she was no longer in the main hall before there was a cry of alarm, and two armored Tevene guards were attacking. She focused her will and sent flames licking up the sword arm of one and parried the strike of the other with her staff. The man on fire shrieked in alarm and backed away.

“Nicely done!” She turned to see Dorian was there – wherever they were – as well; he cast a spell she was unfamiliar with and the guard in front of her dropped dead instantly with a cry of terror. She poured more focus into the flames on the remaining guard, and he soon joined his fellow in silence.

“What happened?” she panted. “Where are we?”

They appeared to be in an underground room, some kind of prison, perhaps. There were sections of the room divided off by barred walls and locked doors. The floor was covered in ankle-deep dank water that was leaking in from some unknown breach in the walls. The most disturbing feature, however, was the massive spike of red lyrium jutting out from the far wall. Ellana hadn’t seen much red lyrium, but this was by far the largest amount she had seen in one place.

“Those are excellent questions!” Dorian replied. “A better one would be ‘ _when_ are we.’”

Ellana stared at him. “He’s displaced us _in time? Mythal enaste_ ,” she cursed. “Can we get back?”

“I do have some thoughts on that! They are lovely little thoughts, like jewels,” Dorian replied.

Dorian was charming; however, Ellana was finding that charm was also sometimes infuriating. She wanted to shake him. “Do any of those jewels tell you how we _get back to the present_?”

“The amulet must have acted as a focus,” Dorian said. “If we can get to it, I might be able to reverse the effect.”

“Oh, good. Glad you are stuck here with me, then.” She looked around. “Where are the others?”

“Hmm,” Dorian said. “It would appear they did not get displaced with us, or they would be right here.” 

“We’ll keep an eye out for them, then,” Ellana said. “Let’s get out of this hole.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Dorian agreed, shuddering. “I didn’t expect much from Southern hospitality, but this is a new low.”

Ellana snorted. “Not enough pillows in the prison cells for your liking, your magisterialness?”

“Not a magister, I –”

“I know the difference,” Ellana cut him off. “Clearly you are not a member of the Magisterium.”

“Oh, thank the Maker. I have to explain that at least eight times a day when I travel outside the Imperium.” He paused. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘clearly’?”

They had ascended a few stone staircases, twisting through the hallways designed to make escape difficult for those placed in the cells below. There was red lyrium everywhere, piles and spikes and glowing pebbles of it. The faint chiming song vibrating off the crystalline structures was unnerving. She gritted her teeth and skirted around it as much as possible.

“What is this stuff?” Dorian asked.

“Red lyrium. It’s poisonous; try not to touch it.”

“Not a problem, thank you very much,” he assured her.

“Quiet!” she hissed. “I thought I heard…”

 _There!_ Down one of the hallways she faintly heard Varric’s voice, singing some sort of drinking song. She rushed in that direction and found him locked in one of the smaller cells, sitting with his back against the wall and singing to keep himself occupied.

“Varric!”

He turned to her slowly, grimacing. “Not this trick again. Go away. You’re dead.”

“No, Varric, it’s really me! Alexius didn’t kill me, he sent me forward in time,” Ellana explained. “At least, I am assuming forward, since you know who I am.” Dorian began working at the lock on the cell door while she talked.

Varric stood and moved closer to the bars. Ellana let out an involuntary gasp. He looked horrible. There were tendrils of faint red magic floating all around him, and his eyes were nearly solid red instead of their normal pleasant amber brown. He looked down at himself and shrugged.

“You missed a lot, Red.”

“We’re going to fix it,” Ellana said. “I promise you; I will make this right.”

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?”

“We are going to find Alexius’ amulet and reverse the time displacement,” Dorian explained. “Ah-ha! There we are!” The door swung upon on rusty hinges with a loud creak.

“Will you help?” Ellana asked.

“Got nothing better to do, really,” Varric shrugged again. “Find Bianca and I’ll happily point her at things for you.”

They searched until they found a trunk with his belongings stored nearby. As he pulled on his armor, Ellana asked, “Varric, do you know where we are?”

“Castle Redcliffe,” he said. “You know that Chuckles and the Seeker are locked up here too?”

Ellana felt a sudden surge of adrenaline and worry at the thought of Solas in this mess. “Do you know where?” she demanded.

“Vaguely,” Varric replied. “Let’s go.”

Cassandra was in a cell in the room opposite where they found Varric. She was infected with red lyrium like Varric, a miasma of red glowing magic seeming to leak from her skin. Instead of singing, they found her reciting lines from the Chant of Light to herself for comfort.

“Cassandra, are you alright?”

“Oh, Maker, the end must truly be upon us now if the dead are returning to life,” she moaned.

“No, I didn’t die, Alexius sent me – and Dorian – forward in time. If we can find him, we might be able to get back to the moment we left.”

A spark of hope lit up Cassandra’s face. “You mean, you could make it so none of this ever happened?”

“That’s the plan,” Ellana confirmed.

“Then I will help you,” Cassandra declared, rising to her feet. Varric had already been able to pick the lock on her door. They found her equipment, and once she was ready, continued searching the cells.

“You should know…once you were gone, the Elder One, we could not stop him,” Cassandra said mournfully. “We failed.”

“How bad is it out there, Cassandra?” Ellana asked quietly.

“Very bad,” the Seeker replied, without hesitation or hedging. “You will see.”

They moved on, finding Solas on yet another floor in a cell of his own. Her heart twisted at the sight of him locked away in a corner, the same signs of infection drifting from his skin and his eyes.

“Ellana?” Another pang shot through her chest at hearing him speak her name in a voice that was not at all like the one she had just left moments ago, his normal smooth timbre layered and echoing with malignant magic. Ellana wrapped her hands around the bars of his cell door and he moved up to cover them with his own, testing if she was real. She watched as realization dawned on his face. “Ah. He sent you forward then, that day.”

“Solas, we’re going to _fix this_ ,” Ellana said, determined.

He nodded serenely. “Of course, that is the only path forward. This future is not one we should wish to keep.”

Varric got the lock on the door open and Solas stepped out. Cassandra had already been retrieving his equipment and handed him his staff and robes. He began speaking quickly, but calmly, listing facts that she needed to hear. “It has been one year, give or take, since your disappearance. The Elder One caused the Breach to spread to the entire sky, assassinated the Empress of Orlais, and used the chaos to march a demon army across Thedas. His servants borrow power from the red lyrium, hence its persistent presence.”

“Alright, that’s the large-scale summary. What about the situation here in the castle?”

“Alexius has locked himself into his great hall. Other than that, I am not sure. We have been kept here for an exceptionally long time.” He grabbed her hand, squeezed it gently. “It is very good to see you once more, Ellana.”

She decided to forget, in this future-that-would-not-be, that his past-self had been right; she should not be distracted from her purpose. She pulled him in, wrapped her arms around him and held him for just a moment. He stiffened in surprise but then returned her embrace.

Varric coughed behind them.

Ellana stepped away quickly. “We should get moving,” she said.

“Leliana is here somewhere as well,” Cassandra said. “We should keep an eye out for her if we can.”

They made their way up and up and up endless twisting stairs (who had laid out this castle?), fighting past the Venatori that they encountered in places. Soon they hallways widened and became more thoughtfully laid out as they reached to more used parts of the castle. They passed several closed doors, but Ellana did not bother to open them as they seemed likely to lead only to side rooms and not the way out. She desperately wanted to leave these lyrium-infested hallways as soon as possible.

As they passed one such closed door, Ellana heard a smack of flesh against flesh and a cry of pain.

“Tell me how Lavellan knew about the sacrifice!” a surly male voice demanded.

“Never,” came the gritty, terse reply in a voice she recognized.

“Leliana!” But Cassandra was already moving Ellana aside and kicking in the door with one booted foot. Leliana was in the center of the room, chained up and dangling by her wrists as a man stood in front of her, tools of pain spread out on a tray next to him.

The distraction of the door being kicked open provided enough opportunity for Leliana to act. She grabbed the man with her legs and with a smooth, swift crack broke his neck. He fell limply to the floor, dead. She looked up at Ellana and her eyes widened with surprise.

“You’re alive?”

Ellana searched the dead torturer until she found his keys and began trying them in the manacles holding Leliana up. “I never died. Alexius tried to use his magic to remove me from time completely. He miscalculated.” She reached up to support the other woman as her arms were suddenly released from holding her weight.

Leliana stood and straightened out her arms, rolling her neck and shoulders. Her face was a grim sight, no longer beautiful but drawn and scarred and sunken nearly beyond recognition, a testament to all she had endured. Ellana felt her determination to make sure none of this ever happened grow into a small quiet rage at the injustices her companions had faced. She would protect them from this. They were _her_ people now, and she was their Keeper, and this would be made right or she would die trying.

Leliana met her eyes and saw the fire growing there and nodded in silent approval. “Then that will be the last mistake he ever makes.” She moved to a chest in the corner and retrieved a simple bow and a quiver of arrows, slinging both behind her back. “Let’s go.” She turned and led them out of the room further into the castle.

They were silent as they continued making their way up. They finally found a door that led outside into the castle’s courtyard; any relief Ellana may have felt at breathing fresh air was quickly banished by the sight of the Breach. It had grown to encompass the entire sky as far as they could see, green smoky clouds roiling over their heads. The sight was terrifying and enraging and desperately sad as Ellana thought of all the destruction and suffering this would be causing. Her world deserved far better than this. 

Rifts had opened in the courtyard, more of the time-bending bubbles scattered around them. They fought in determined silence, pushing the demons back until Ellana could use the mark to seal the rifts once more. The foyer in front of the great hall had yet another rift in it, and Venatori mages who were trying to bind the demons that spewed forth. Ellana and her entourage dispatched them with grim efficiency before moving to inspect the door to the great hall where Alexius had sealed himself in like the coward he was.

Dorian and Solas looked with her. Ellana passed her fingers over several intricate notches carved around a circular locking mechanism set in the center of the stone door.

“How did Alexius even get this here?” Dorian wondered aloud.

“It would have been quite a feat,” Solas said. “This is a type of lock I have only ever seen in my memories in the Fade. It is ancient and very secure.”

“How do we open it?” Ellana asked.

“It requires a key made of several parts, each inserted into its place in the proper order,” Solas replied.

“Alexius has to eat, somehow. His servants must have these keys, surely?” Dorian mused.

They checked the bodies of the Venatori they had found in the hall and found five small shards of red lyrium. Careful to only touch them with gloved hands, Ellana set them into their places as Solas indicated. The effect on the door was immediate. Red light flowed from the shard keys into the lock and it began to twist and turn with dizzying speed until it clicked, and the heavy stone doors began to swing inward, scraping against the floor as they moved.

The hall looked much the same as she and Dorian had left it in their present, with the tall chair placed where it had been before and an eerily cheerful fire blazing in the hearth behind it. Alexius was slumped down, holding his head in his hands. He didn’t even bother looking up as the doors opened and they entered the room.

“Felix,” Dorian whispered, running forward. Felix was indeed there, standing next to Alexius’ chair, but it was not Felix, not anymore. Gone was Felix’s simple, earnest charm or the spark of humor that had flashed in his eyes each time Dorian made a joke. The man standing in front of them was naught but a shell, a golem of flesh preserved in the vain hope that his father would not have to face the remainder of his life alone and childless.

The smolder in Ellana’s chest burst into roaring flame. How could he have done this to _his own son_? He burnt the world, for his own selfish reasons, and still he did not get what he desired. Her rage poured out of her fingertips, flames licking painlessly up her arms and she strode forward. “Alexius!” her voice rang out across the hall and reverberated off the stone ceiling. “This ends, _now.”_

Alexius’ head snapped up in shock. “You!” he hissed. “I knew you would come back to haunt me.” He slumped back further into his chair. “No matter. The irony of you showing up again now, of all the possibilities...now when there is nothing to do but wait for the end.”

“No,” Ellana said, voice tight with rage. “This will be undone. You will be stopped. The Elder One will be stopped.”

Alexius began laughing, a mirthless sound of air being dragged from the desiccated lungs of a corpse. “You foolish girl. The Elder One comes for us all. You cannot defeat him.” 

Leliana moved up to Felix and held a knife to his throat. Felix stood passively, no reaction at all on his features. “Enough of this!” she hissed.

“No, please, do not hurt my son!” Alexius pleaded, standing to his feet. “I’ll do whatever you ask!”

“Give us the amulet, and she will let him go,” Ellana said.

“I swear, I will give you whatever you want!”

“I want the world back,” Leliana said flatly, and dragged the knife across Felix’s throat. His expression did not change even as his life blood spurted out onto the floor as he fell.

“No!” Alexius snarled and raised his staff, and they were all blown back by a wave of magical force. Alexius fell to his knees in despair next to the body of his son and began to weep.

Ellana stood to her feet, raised a barrier, and strode back towards Alexius, face calm. He regarded her approach with surprise and not a little fear. He did not attack again.

Ellana raised one flame-covered hand and clenched it into a fist, pouring everything inside her into him, making him feel it as she did, making him _burn_. Alexius began to gasp in pain, then screamed as flames consumed him from the inside out. Ellana watched in silence as he burned, her rage seething and twisting in pleasure at the sounds of his dying breaths. Seconds later nothing was left except a pile of ash-covered robes.

She sank to her knees then, rage quieted and spent, looking at her hands in disbelief, as if they belonged to someone else. A steady hand gripped her shoulder and she looked up at Solas standing behind her, a look of understanding and even recognition on his face. Ellana gasped out a sob and covered her face with her hands. “What have I done?” she wailed.

His strange echoey voice answered her quietly. “What you had to do.” He reached down and pulled her up with a hand under her elbow and pulled her into an embrace. Ellana clung to him and cried into his chest, oblivious to anything else except him and her own shock at what she had just allowed herself to do. He murmured soft words she didn’t recognize into her hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Dorian fished the amulet out of the pile that had been Alexius and studied it. “Ah ha!” he said triumphantly. “I just need an hour to complete the ritual and we can be on our way back to fix all this mess.”

Something screeched outside the hall, long and loud and threatening. “I do not think you will have an hour,” Leliana observed. Cassandra met her eyes and nodded.

“We will buy you time,” Cassandra said. “But you must hurry.”

Varric reloaded Bianca with a heavy sigh.

Ellana looked up at Solas, who was looking at her with a kind of determined despair. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and released her, moving to join the others. Involuntarily, Ellana reached to hold him back. “No, not you.”

He smiled sadly. “When you get back, tell me what a fool I have been.”

Ellana watched as he turned as strode through the door with the others until it closed behind them again and he was gone from her sight. Dorian grabbed her hand and pulled her back up on the dais and began casting a spell with the amulet. Leliana stood in the middle of the room, arrow knocked and ready, eyes glued to the door.

A few tense moments passed. The sounds from outside the hall were horrifying, worse than if she had been able to see what was happening. They grew closer and closer until something flung itself against the stone door with bang. Leliana flinched and looked back at them. “Dorian!”

“Nearly there!” he yelled back. “Just a few more moments…”

“Do not stop. You have as much time as I have arrows.” The doors crashed open with a tremendous bang, and a terror demon strode inside, flinging aside the bodies of Solas and Cassandra and making his way for Leliana. She did not move, notching and firing arrow after arrow into the horde as they poured into the hall.

“Andraste guide me.” Another arrow loosed. “Maker, take me to your side.” Notch, loose. The demons closed on her, and she abandoned firing the arrows and began using her bow as a club instead, knocking them back. There were too many, and soon she was surrounded. 

Ellana cried out in desperation and began to move to run towards her, help her, _protect her_ despite herself. Dorian grabbed her arm. “You move and we all die!”

She stopped and watched in horror as yet more demons poured into the room. The glowing green vortex grew behind them and there was a _snap_ of energy and they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being awesome and I hope your day is awesome :)
> 
> <3


	14. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Time-Shenanigans Feels!

Moments passed between heartbeats.

_Thump._

She was gone, disappeared, no trace left, time magic? Forward or backward, can he replicate it, find her, rescue her?

_Thump._

Not erased, no, no, no, can’t be true, still in time somewhere, stuck, a fly in a web, he would stop the spider, untangle her wings so she could fly again –

_Thump._

He turned her down. He didn’t tell her all of it, that the indulgent flirtation was but the barest whisper of the depths he was beginning to discover he felt. She didn’t know and now she was gone and he had to find her, where did she go, bring her back!

_Thump._

A snap of energy, magic coalescing like a thundercloud and then she was there, whole and hale and the same as she had left and he could breathe again. He was moving towards her before he could think, but then he looked at her truly and drew up short.

She was not the same, not exactly. Her impossibly bright blue eyes were bright points of flaming rage; tongues of fire flickered on her arms and in her hands. Wherever she had gone, it had changed her to her core. She turned those sun-fire-goddess eyes on Alexius, and he _trembled_ , awed by her rage, and sank to his knees.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, I’m afraid!” Dorian’s jocular tone was a sharp counterpoint to the palpable miasma of fear and anger and despair that permeated the hall.

“I’ve failed,” Alexius moaned.

“Yes, you have.” Ellana’s voice sounded the same but also different, carrying rage and sadness and other things that had not weighed it down before. She snapped at the Inquisition soldiers in the room. “Seize him.” To Dorian: “Destroy it.”

Dorian nodded and stepped forward. He removed the amulet from Alexius’ grasp and cast a spell. It shattered into tiny shards of glass and amber, no longer a threat or a tool or anything else. Felix moved to stand beside Dorian, and they shared a glance and a nod, pleased by their success and saddened their scheming was necessary.

Seeing Alexius in chains and his amulet destroyed seemed to calm whatever was burning in Ellana. The flames on her and around her subsided and she looked normal again, save for the weight that had settled behind her eyes. She pointed to one of Leliana’s agents. “Send word of what has happened, to our people as well as to Bann Teagan and King Alistair. Let the King know that the Inquisition is taking Magister Gereon Alexius into custody for crimes committed against the Herald of Andraste and the people of Thedas. If Tevinter has an issue with that, they can take it up with the Inquisition and leave Ferelden out of it. Bann Teagan may return to Redcliffe to reclaim his lands. The Inquisition will hold them for him in the meantime as a courtesy.”

The other thing her voice now carried was _authority_. She spoke with certainty that her words were correct and would be heeded. Gone was the hesitancy, the doubt of her own experience. His heart swelled with pride, and then twisted with anguish. The burden of such certainty was a difficult one to bear. 

“Fiona,” she called to the Grand Enchanter. “You and those who follow you are released from your indenture. The Inquisition has freed you but holds you to no agreements save those you make yourself. We _ask_ for your help. In exchange for your allegiance we offer our resources and protection for as long as the Inquisition exists.”

Fiona bowed to her. “I and my people gladly accept this offer, Herald of Andraste.”

Ellana nodded once. “Gather them and head to Haven. Report to Commander Cullen and do as he asks.”

She turned to him then, met his eyes, swallowed hard. For a bare moment, she let him see past the new façade and he saw the Ellana he had come to know: still terrified of her own power, concerned of doing the right thing. He watched as something melded the two halves into a whole and she emerged new and hard but not yet brittle. She was powerful and strong and could protect them all. And he would help her. How could he not?

She kept her expression neutral as she walked over to him. She reached out one hand and brushed her fingertips against his chest, lightly, just making sure he was real. Again, he moved involuntarily, beginning to raise his arms to pull her to him, but stopped when she gave a bare shake of her head. “We’ll speak later,” she said softly, and turned to supervise the room as her orders were carried out. She did not pull away when he rested his hand lightly on the small of her back.

***

Later, after orders were carried out and chaos no longer reigned in Redcliffe, they sat across from one another at a table in the tavern, sharing companionable silence over mulled wine. He studied her as she relaxed, the new persona she now held as “Herald” melting away slowly until she was simply Ellana. She sank back into her chair, a pensive frown on her face. He didn’t press, knowing she would tell him what had happened to her when she was ready.

She leaned forward and cleared her throat, looking down into her wine. “I went into the future. A year.”

He nodded but did not interrupt.

“It was horrible. Red lyrium growing out of walls, out of people. The Breach had spread until the Veil was gone, the barrier between the real world and the Fade had been erased.”

She did not seem to notice his uneasy shift in his chair.

“The Elder One had taken over, demons ran rampant over Thedas, everything was chaos,” she continued. “Alexius was holed up in the castle, waiting to die.” A small spark of her rage returned, her jaw twitching. “He burned the world, and still failed to get what he wanted.” She took a deep draught of her wine. “I will never be able to comprehend such selfishness.”

He swallowed hard, glad that she was still not looking at him.

There was more. She looked up at him then, meeting his eyes. “You were there. You…died to give me time to get back here.”

He nodded. “That would have been the most practical choice.”

“There wasn’t much practical about the way you did it,” Ellana said dryly.

“What does that mean?”

“You…” she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Forget I mentioned it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not likely.”

She huffed out a laugh. “Just leave it at you did a noble thing and thank you, sort of, even though _you_ didn’t do it…time travel is weird.”

“I imagine the experience is most disorienting,” he agreed. He leaned forward and took her hand. “Are you alright? I can see that the terrible things you saw or experienced weigh on you.”

She stilled but did not pull away. “Yes, and also…I did something terrible, too,” she confessed. “I don’t know what came over me but when I saw Alexius after all the suffering he had caused, I just couldn’t stop.”

“Whatever you did, it was what you had to do, I am certain,” he assured her with a squeeze of her hand.

“You said that, then, too,” she said with a half-smile. “I mean, the other you. The no-longer-future you.”

“I am usually correct, most of the time,” he said with an air of affected smugness.

She laughed then, not loudly or for long, but a true noise of amusement that warmed him from the inside out. “Touché,” she said. She looked down at their hands and cleared her throat. “So, what does this mean?”

“My apologies, I was intending to offer comfort.” He started to pull away, but she gripped his fingers more tightly.

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” she said softly. “I know what you said, what we agreed. But I’ll take whatever you feel you can give me.”

“I should not. It would be kinder, in the long run, to you. I have been selfish, distracted,” he stumbled over his explanation. Her presence did many things to him, but the most infuriating was the removal of his certainty. He couldn’t decide if that was a weakness, or a strength.

She looked him directly in the eye. “I am not a fool. I know you have some past you don’t want any of us to know. I don’t care. Whatever it is, whoever you were, you are here now, and you are helping us save the world. Helping me.” Her hand tightened on his again. “I’ve seen a glimpse of a horrible future, yes, but also a glimpse of what _we_ could be. And I want that.” She smiled ruefully. “I think I need it, actually. So whatever pain you think you’ll cause me, I’ll take my chances.”

She released his hand then and drank the rest of her wine in one long pull. “I had to say that before I lost the courage to do so. Whatever you decide, I wanted you to know.” She stood from the table and walked around it to him, leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He watched her walk away upstairs, stunned. His cheek burned where her lips had touched it. 

_Well, shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A combo of getting off work early and feeling badly for only uploading twice this week means you get another chapter! 
> 
> Love you all and stay safe out there. <3


	15. Ellana

She closed the door of her rented room behind her and leaned back against it, closing her eyes and breathing out a giddy laugh. Whether it was the wine or the stress or just the simple truth of her feelings, she did not regret what she had just done. So what if he rejected her? If he continued to maintain that it was not a good idea, that it was too much of a distraction (but really, they could both use one, couldn’t they?), then she would leave it, and save the world, and then go home. Nothing else to be done. There was a freedom in that realization, freedom in having made her choice and letting him make his. They wouldn’t become awkward; they had too much to get on with that was so much bigger than this tiny little matter of their attraction. Because she was sure it was _their_ attraction, not just hers. He thought he was hiding it well, but he was not, not at all. Things may have been different between her and Ghillen, but she was not entirely oblivious.

_Ghillen_. Her elation evaporated in an instant, smoke on the wind. A new wave of grief gripped her, and she sank to the floor. She began to weep, choking sobs and shuddering breaths, and she knew from her brief experiences with the sensation that the easiest way out was through and so she let it happen.

She had now seen two people she cared for die to save her, to allow her to live on to fulfill some greater purpose. Mythal’s mercy that she did not actually have to watch Ghillen’s death, and that it was surely quick and painless for her. But the now-not-future-Solas: the memory of his lifeless body being tossed onto the floor of Redcliffe Castle flashed in her mind, an indelible brand. It didn’t happen, but it also _did_ happen; she watched it, remembered it entirely too clearly, and time magic or no it was a vision she’d have to carry with her forever. It would be there, just beneath the surface, every time she closed her eyes, summoned with a sliver of unwilling thought.

Sudden realization of what had caused her impulsive declarations downstairs caused her laugh through her sobs. Of course, it made sense that “losing” him pushed her to a level of assertiveness she’d never attained before in any kind of interpersonal interaction. She couldn’t take it back now even if she wanted to – and she was not sure she did, not really – and so it would have to be up to him now. 

The grief, terror, sorrow, and the sheer burden of authority she now found herself carrying all rushed together and once and she was exhausted. She stripped off her outer garments and fell into the bed, the emotions and the alcohol working in tandem to pull her into a deep sleep. She dreamt of her forest again, and she ran through the trees, dancing around their branches and allowing herself these small moments of happiness in between the burdens of the waking days. She went on like that for what felt like forever, but could have been only moments, and then it was morning.

***

“Listen. You can’t send me out, on my own, and tell me to make something happen, and then complain about _how I make that thing happen_.” Ellana liked these people but these “council” meetings were getting to be a bit much.

“This is absolutely unacceptable! Mages _have_ to be monitored carefully, or they will be taken over by demons and become dangerous,” Cullen said, pounding a fist on the table.

“Dalish do just fine without Templars to nanny them,” Ellana retorted. “Consider that _your_ way might not be the _only_ way, for once!”

Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “This argument is inconsequential, anyhow. Rescinding the offer of an alliance now would make the Inquisition look incompetent at best, and tyrannical at worst.”

“I did the best I could. You were not there. You did not see what I saw. Alexius was treating the Grand Enchanter like a dog. Worse than, even. The Inquisition cannot sink to the level of Tevene magister or we will never garner the respect of our allies.”

“The Herald is right,” Cassandra spoke up. “She saw what needed to be done and she did it. There is no point in dithering about what a better choice may have been.”

Cullen let out an exasperated sigh. “We will close the Breach, and then this ‘alliance’ will need to be re-evaluated.”

Ellana rolled her eyes. “Fine. What’s the plan for closing it?”

“Solas has explained that we need you and the mages at the Temple site. You will focus on closing the Breach and the mages will lend their power to help you do so,” Cullen reported.

“Great. How soon can we mobilize?”

“Give me a day to have my scouts to secure the route. We should be able to head there the day after tomorrow,” Leliana said.

“I’ll be ready when you are.”

***

The hike back up the mountain to the explosion site felt like a funeral march. There was no way to know what would happen when she tried to close the Breach. The effort may kill her, or maim her, or do any number of other injurious things to her. She again wondered what she had done to get into this situation, which god to blame for cursing her with the mark.

Solas walked beside her, close but not unusually so. He had not spoken to her much since her impassioned speech in the Redcliffe tavern, but he hadn’t exactly been avoiding her either. She glanced over at him and he nodded and gave her that half smile of his, probably meaning to be reassuring.

“What exactly do I need to do?” she asked him while they walked.

“I theorize that it will be similar to how you focus the power of the mark to close the rifts. Just, more. The mages will focus with you, and you can draw on their power to aid you.” He shrugged apologetically. “We are out of everyone’s depth, now. I am sorry I do not have anything more specific to tell you.”

“Hmm,” Ellana said.

He reached over and took her hand. “I’ll be with you. For what that is worth.”

“It means a lot, actually, thank you,” she replied. They walked the rest of the way hand-in-hand.

The temple looked much the same as it had the last time, she had seen it. The huge crater created by the explosion was covered in a soft dusting of snow now, giving it an eerily picturesque appearance. Inquisition forces had retrieved the bodies as much as they were able for proper funereal rites weeks ago. The rift she had closed the last time was still present, green crystalline formations twisting and pulsing with power as spirits tested it from within the Fade. Ellana swallowed hard as they approached it.

“You’ll re-open this rift, first, and then seal it and the Breach at the same time,” Solas explained. “I think that should work, with enough power behind the mark.”

Ellana nodded. Cassandra strode up to stand beside her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We are with you, Herald.”

Solas gave her hand a squeeze and let go, nodding to her. “Mages!” he shouted behind them. “Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!”

Ellana closed her eyes and began to focus as she did when casting a ritual spell or a particularly powerful evocation. She felt the surging press of power at her back and concentrated on pulling it into herself, using it to fuel whatever magic was in the mark. The mark crackled in her left palm and began to pulse, painful for the first time in weeks.

She raised her hand towards the half-sealed rift and pulled, opening it once more. A green glowing tether of power connected to her outstretched palm. The power behind her surged forward, her body and mind a conduit for the roaring river of energy between the mages, her mark, and the rift. She grimaced at the pain, gritted her teeth and dug into it, adding it to the rushing power as well. She felt the resistance of the Breach push back against the tide, and so she pushed harder.

Her feet began to slide back, threatening her concentration. She felt something solid at her back: Solas had stepped behind her and was holding her steady by the waist again, an echo of the first time they had met. She felt him adding his own magic to the well she was drawing from and she smiled, more a baring of teeth than an expression of joy, and _pushed_ past the resistance and suddenly there was a feeling of release. A powerful shockwave blew her, Solas, Cassandra and anyone else nearby back several feet from the rift. Ellana landed with a thud on top of Solas, who had kept his arms around her.

The power surged upward into the sky, crackling green lighting shooting from the tether as it soared up and up until it disappeared into the Breach itself. There was another shockwave, higher up, and the window into the Fade was gone.

Ellana rolled off Solas onto the ground and closed her eyes. Her whole body ached from the effort; that much power was not meant to be held by one mortal person, no matter how briefly. She felt stretched, twisted, _exhausted_.

“Ellana?” Solas called to her. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

“I can hear you,” Ellana answered. “Be quiet. I have a headache.”

He chuckled with relief. “You did it,” he whispered, brushing the hair back from her forehead. “Can you stand?”

“Not yet, but maybe I can sit up,” she said.

He helped her pull up into a sitting position, then pulled her head into his chest. “You did so well, _lethallan_ , so very well.”

He was being confusing again, but in the spirit of her self-declared taking-what-she-could-get policy, Ellana leaned into him and just concentrated on breathing for a minute. She could hear shouts and cheers rising up from the others as they realized what had happened, that they had done it; they had come together and faced a crisis no one had seen in the history of the world and they had _beaten it_.

They were going to have the best party in Haven tonight.

****

Later, Ellana sat on a stone ledge in Haven and watched the revelry below her. They deserved a moment’s peace. They had worked so hard to get here, and even though there was still this “Elder One” to deal with, they could take care of that tomorrow.

The sky looked almost normal again. The clouds that were usually ever-present in this part of the mountains had cleared, and she could see the stars again. They looked different from how they looked further north, near her home, but she could still pick out her favorites, the ones she had named and called friend as a child. She smiled softly and hugged herself, rubbing her arms to ward off the chill night air.

“Are you cold?” Solas asked from behind her. She didn’t turn to look at him.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Here,” he said gently. He sat down behind her and pulled her back against his chest. He unclasped his heavy cloak and unwound it from his shoulders to wrap around them both. Ellana sighed and leaned into him, grateful for the warmth.

“Thank you, Solas.”

“It is the least I can do, considering what you accomplished today.”

“Yes, it’s not like there is a traditional gift one gives when a friend has repaired a hole in the sky,” she jested.

He chuckled. “No, there isn’t.”

Ellana leaned her head back against his shoulder and resumed looking at the stars. “It is so nice to see them again,” she sighed.

“They are beautiful,” he agreed. He was quiet for a long moment. “Ellana.”

“Hmm?”

“I have…considered what you said.”

She nodded, waiting.

“I cannot give you what you want, not everything,” he said slowly.

Her breath caught in her throat. She had told herself this outcome would be fine, but now that it was happening, she found it was more painful than she anticipated.

“But,” he continued. “I will give you as much as I can, if you will have it.” He moved his arms down to slip around her waist, hugging her from behind.

The breath caught in her throat rushed out in a laugh of relief. She snuggled back deeper into his embrace and sighed. “Solas, I –”

She was interrupted by the alarm bells from the watchtowers, which suddenly began pealing in a panicked cacophany. The revelry ground to a halt as people gasped and wondered what was happening. Ellana shot to her feet, Solas not far behind her.

“I see Commander Cullen by the main gate,” he shouted above the din.

“Let’s go.” Ellana jumped down and began running towards the gate, knowing he would be following behind her.

“Cullen?” Ellana shouted as she ran up to the gate. The soldiers had already shut them for the night so that was not a problem, at least. “What is happening?”

Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana joined them as he explained. “One watchtower reporting, a massive force heading our way. The bulk is coming over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine asked, bewildered.

“None,” Cullen replied.

“None?” Josephine would have looked less surprised if you had told her that Empress Celene had abdicated her throne.

“What’s the plan? How do we stop them?” Ellana cut in.

Before Cullen could answer there was a loud bang against the gate, rattling the wood on its hinges. Shouts and cries of pain went up and were quickly silenced. A softer knock followed, incongruous against the backdrop of steadily rising adrenaline and panic growing in the town.

“I can’t come in unless you open,” a small but insistent voice called out.

Ellana looked to Solas, who was peering at the gate intensely. She shrugged and lifted the bar before anyone could stop her and pushed her way out to see who was there. A lanky, scraggly mess of a man (boy?) was crouched before the door, daggers in each hand. He was wearing a strange hat that covered most of his face and was otherwise dressed in rags. He straightened as she approached and began speaking urgently.

“You! I came to warn you,” he said. “I’m Cole. He is very angry you took his mages. He wants them back.”

“Who does?” Ellana asked.

“There!” The boy pointed to a distant cliff. Ellana squinted and could make out two figures: one was dressed much as a Templar would be. The other was hard to discern from this distance, but was very tall and just looked _wrong_ , twisted and skeletal and dangerous. Ellana felt a sinking feeling in her belly as she looked at him.

“He calls himself the Elder One,” Cole was saying. “He is very angry you took his mages.”

“ _Mythal enaste_ ,” Ellana breathed. It made sense, though; they had twice interfered with his scheming. They made no secret that the Inquisition was quartered in Haven. In hindsight that was a miscalculation they should probably correct in the future, if they got the chance.

Cullen had moved up beside her to look at where Cole was pointing. “I know that man. His name is Samson. He was a Templar in Kirkwall when I served there.”

“Great, we’ll send him a card later,” Ellana said. “Let’s get back inside, quickly. Cole, thank you for your offer of assistance, the Inquisition accepts.” She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him inside the walls with them.

“I want to help,” Cole agreed.

“Cullen, what is the plan?” Ellana asked again.

“Trebuchets. We need to use them to drive them back. I will send out forces to man them, but they will need to be guarded from attack.”

Ellana nodded. “I can help keep them away.” She readied her staff. “Let’s go.”

“I am coming with you,” Cassandra said. Her sword was already out. Varric, who had walked up without her noticing, merely unshouldered Bianca and loaded her with a bolt.

Ellana glanced at Solas who nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. She steeled herself and strode forward out of the front gate towards the first trebuchet. Cullen was making some rousing speech behind her; it was probably very inspiring, but she couldn’t make out the words over the roaring in her ears. She had begun to think of this place as a new home, short as her time here had been; these were her people. And now it was being threatened with certain destruction. She would do all she could to prevent that, but the simple truth of the matter was that her actions had brought this upon them. She had taken the mages, and closed the Breach, and now this creature was exacting revenge, and her people would die for it.

All she could do now was make sure that number was as low as possible.

The trebuchet crew was efficient and calm, having been drilled to within an inch of their lives in the past few weeks by Cullen’s commanders. They loaded and fired boulder after boulder into the oncoming wave of troops but were not able to meaningfully stop the advance. Closer now to the front line Ellana could see that the attackers were mostly Templars, infected with red lyrium and driven mad by its song. Ellana and her companions fought off the few clusters that had broken off from the main horde and tried to rush the trebuchet, and eventually they stopped trying.

“Herald! The other trebuchet isn’t firing!” One of the soldiers called down to her.

“On it!” She replied and began running in that direction. They found a large group of Red Templars had overrun the crew, who were all dead on the ground. Ellana screamed with rage and ran forward, and they either killed or ran off the entire group. Ellana studied the trebuchet while she tried to catch her breath. The crew had loaded it before they died, but it was aimed _away_ from the approaching army. That was strange. Ellana ran behind the trebuchet and looked down the line of fire, her eyes widening when she realized what they had intended.

“Cassandra, guard my back,” Ellana said. “I’m going to fire that thing.”

“What?”

Ellana jumped up onto the platform next to the trebuchet and began turning the wheel that raised the counterweight and pulled the firing arm into position. It was slower going than she would have liked; she had not exactly had much occasion to build up a great deal of upper body strength in her life.

“Herald we should head back inside the walls before we are overrun!” Cassandra shouted at her.

“Trust me!” Turn, crank, turn, crank. Sweat gathered on her brow despite the winter chill in the air. Turn, crank, turn, crank. _This had better work_.

“Ellana!” Solas shouted. “We have no more time!”

“Just...a few more...turns,” Ellana grunted out between pulls. Finally, the weight clicked into place, the firing winch pulling upright. “Got it!” She shouted triumphantly.

“Get ready to run!” Ellana kicked the firing winch and the trebuchet released, the firing arm flinging its payload high up into the mountains. Ellana studied the mountainside for a few anxious moments, and then she saw the snow beginning to fall in a great wave, silent at first and then a few seconds later a great rushing roaring sound reached her. The snow and rocks pummeled into the advancing throng, and they heard cheers go up from behind them as the lights of all their torches were quickly buried beneath the rubble.

“Good going, Herald!” Varric shouted.

Ellana leaned against the trebuchet and wiped her forehead with one hand. She nodded to the bodies of the firing crew. “Thank them; it was their plan. They had aimed the firing arm before they were cut down.”

Cassandra sheathed her sword. “Still, you have saved us, yet again. I –”

An otherworldly shriek resounded throughout the valley. They immediately began searching for the source, finding nothing nearby. Solas yanked Ellana off the platform by one arm just before the trebuchet exploded into fiery shards of wood and metal. A great shadow passed overhead – a _dragon_. Now they were being attacked by a dragon too?

“Everyone get back inside!” Ellana shouted. They began to run towards the gate, stopping to help others to their feet on the way. Cullen ushered them back in and then gave the order to close and bar the gates once more.

“What,” Ellana said between gasps for breath. “Was _that_?”

“I saw an archdemon once,” Cole offered helpfully. “It was only a dream, but it looked like that.”

Ellana gaped at him.

“Get everyone to the Chantry! It is the only place that might hold against that...thing!” Cullen shouted. People did not wait to be told again and started running up the hill.

“What do we do?” Ellana asked.

“I... don’t know,” Cullen said.

“Give me something, Commander!” Ellana snapped. “How do we protect them?”

Another terrifying shriek rent the air as the dragon made another pass above them.

“We don’t!” Cullen’s voice cracked with despair. “The only thing we get to choose now is how we die.”

Ellana closed her eyes. “Fine. Let’s get inside.”

The inside of the chantry was complete chaos, only mildly mitigated by the Inquisition soldiers who were trying to move people in an orderly fashion. Cole was helping move people who were injured into the shelter of the large stone building. Ellana recognized them as one of the chantry clerks who had argued with Cullen several days ago – Chancellor Roderick, she thought his name was. He was gravely injured, robes soaked with blood and barely able to stand.

“He fought a Templar to help other people escape,” Cole said.

“Foolish of me,” Roderick wheezed, and then grunted in pain as Cole set him down as gently as he could into a nearby chair.

Ellana turned to Cullen. “Now that everyone is conveniently in one place, what do you suggest?” She tried to keep the irritation from her voice, but it was nearly impossible.

He scowled at her. “We lure that dragon down here and then fire the trebuchets into the mountain above Haven. The snow and rocks will bury it.”

“And Haven along with it!” Ellana protested.

“I told you: the only choice we have now is how we die, and if we can make that thing die with us.”

“Well, that’s not an option. I didn’t come all the way south to die in a snowy tomb with you people,” Dorian piped up.

“The Elder One wants you, Herald,” Cole repeated. “He’s very angry with you.”

“I don’t care what he wants,” Ellana said, frustrated. “I just want to protect as many as I can.” She looked around at the terrified faces of the men and women who had flocked to the Inquisition’s banner because of her, because of what she represented for them. She startled when she saw the familiar face of the washer-woman who had comforted her before, huddled with some of her fellow laborers reciting prayers in hurried, panicked whispers. Ellana racked her brain for a solution, anything she could do to save them.

“The chancellor wants to help!” Cole said suddenly. They all turned and looked at the boy and the old man expectantly.

Roderick coughed and tried to speak but couldn’t get words out. Cole said, “He wants me to tell you. There is a way out, behind the chantry, he can show us.”

Ellana wheeled on Cullen. “If I distract him, can you get them out?”

“We will do our best,” Cullen agreed. “But what about you?”

Ellana didn’t answer.

Solas took her arm. “Ellana you cannot!”

She pulled from his grasp. “It’s the only way, Solas.”

“Maybe you will surprise it somehow? Get away?” Cullen ventured hopefully.

Ellana shook her head. “Go, get them out. Signal me when you are far enough way and I will fire the trebuchet.”

“As you say, Herald,” Cullen said, and saluted her. “Make that thing hear you.”

“I’m going with you,” Solas said.

“No, you are not.” Ellana looked him square in the eye. “You will help them escape. You will continue to help them until this Elder One, whatever he is, is gone or no longer a threat. I have closed the Breach, and now I can do this.” She took his hand. “I need to know you are safe if I am going to face that thing. Please.”

His eyes darted back and forth, studying her features as if he would memorize them. “If you can get out…”

“I will, I promise.”

He placed his hands on either side of her face and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Go,” he said thickly, and turned to help usher the refugees through the back of the chantry.

Ellana moved towards the doors, stopping when a rough hand grabbed her sleeve. Chancellor Roderick looked at her with sorrow. “I am sorry, Herald,” he said, gasping between breaths. “Maker be with you.”

Ellana nodded at him in thanks and moved on. It was dark and strangely quiet outside now as she skirted along the buildings, making her way to the remaining trebuchet. She would need to aim it, winch it, and have it ready to fire before getting the creature’s attention. It made a few more passes overhead, shrieking and beating its wings, possibly trying to further terrorize the townsfolk.

She managed to make it to the trebuchet without being noticed and set to her task. Mercifully, it was already winched, the counterweight in firing position. All she had to do was aim it. She began turning the wheel that moved the firing arm around, pushing with all her might until it was roughly aimed at the mountain top that towered above the town.

The dragon was making another flying pass, and this time Ellana focused her will and began throwing fire at its belly. It let out another horrible shriek and opened its enormous mouth. Ellana barely managed to dodge the gout of lyrium-red flaming energy that bellowed forth in her direction, mercifully missing the trebuchet. She was blown back several feet by the force of it, landing on her side and rolling in the snow.

She shook her head as she sat up, dazed, and looked back towards the trebuchet. Before she could get up, a figure emerged from the flames, striding confidently as if immune to being burnt. The…being – she couldn’t bring herself to call it a man – was well over eight feet tall, flesh pulled taught against bone under rotting rags. This close she could see he had delicate, long-fingered hands that ended in claws, and his face was marred on one side by shards of red lyrium that jutted from his cheek and collarbone. The skin pulled taught around the lyrium, pulling his mouth and the corner of one eye sharply to the side. The overall effect was terrifying in a way Ellana had never experienced.

This, then, was the Elder One.

As it helpfully explained two seconds after she thought that.

“Pretender! You toy with forces beyond your ken! Know me, know who you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the _will_ that is Corypheus,” it declared. Its voice was not so much loud as it was _large_ , as if Ellana could hear it with her ears and inside her mind as well.

“I am not afraid of you,” Ellana shouted back.

“Words mortals often hurl into darkness,” it mused. “They are always lies.” It produced an orb of some kind in one palm. It glowed and crackled with power that looked similar to the dragon’s fire. The Elder One reached out his other hand to her. “I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now. You will kneel.”

“I will –” A sharp stabbing pain in her marked hand cut her off, worse than it had been when she had first awoken with it. She cried out and grabbed her wrist, falling to her knees.

“What is this thing meant to do?” She hissed between clenched teeth.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty I would always come for it,” the creature answered. “This is your fault, ‘Herald’,” it sneered. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” Power lashed out at her, causing her to cry out again from the pain.

“I do not know how you survived,” it continued calmly, almost as if they were having an academic discussion. “What marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the anchor to undo my work? The _gall_.”

The creature stopped its channeling and strode forward, grabbing Ellana by her left arm and raising her several feet off the ground as it continued its monologue. Ellana could only hope that she could keep it talking long enough for the others to escape.

“I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person,” it said. “I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers! For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name by my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.” Ellana gasped in pain as it wrenched her arm and pulled her closer to its face as it hissed its next words. “ _Beg_ that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the gods, and _it is empty_.”

“Maybe,” Ellana panted. “You were looking for the wrong gods.”

The creature’s face twisted with hatred and disgust, and it flung Ellana aside. She slammed into the trebuchet and fell onto the platform next to the firing pin. _Well that worked out._ She winced; something – or several somethings – were definitely broken, and her left shoulder felt wrenched out of place.

“The anchor is permanent. You have spoilt it with your stumbling,” it complained. “So be it. I shall have to begin again, find another way to give this world the god it deserves.”

Ellana pulled herself up, cradling her left arm, and faced the creature. She had to keep it talking. “Where did you get that thing?” she shouted, nodding to the orb. “Are you so sure you can find another?”

“You need not concern yourself,” it replied. “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You will die.”

Then, Ellana saw the signal flare rise into the sky behind the creature’s head. She sighed in relief. “Well, you are supremely arrogant, short-sighted, _and_ talk too much. That’s good to know.” She smiled, a grimace of triumph and resolve, and kicked the firing winch. This time the effect was almost immediate. Snow and ice and rubble began pouring down the mountainside toward them. Ellana wasted no time, turning and using the last bit of willpower left to her to run as fast as she could, pushing past the pain of the anchor and her broken ribs.

The dragon shrieked and she heard it fly off but didn’t look back. She dodged between barricades and buildings, trying to outrun the avalanche. She tripped, fell for far longer than she thought she would, and then everything was black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out much longer than my normal chapters but I really wanted to get through this part of the story in one go, without cutting away. Thanks for your patience as this update took a little longer than normal! 
> 
> For anyone interested, I have a playlist for Solavellan/this fic that you can check out here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0cR5j1DnKVqCpJLkxyg7a5?si=u_D66PvMRZ2sI3nQ5yqShg
> 
> Thanks as always for reading :)


	16. Solas

The flare went up; the mountain came down.

She had done it.

He would have felt more pride in her, but the grief did not leave room for it in his heart. This was his fault. No getting around that. His bungling attempts to correct past mistakes had caused her pain, and grief, and now had cost her life. He was foolish, selfish; arrogance personified. He had always been.

Whether it had started with her carrying a remnant of Mythal in her did not matter now; he had realized that he cared for her for her own sake. He had begun to hope that he could find a way to save her as well as the world he had lost. She would have been very much at home in restored elvhenan, a fine leader to help him bring his people into their future glory. Now that future had winked out, as well, lost and locked in a snowy grave.

The Inquisition marched, pushing through the mountain passes behind Haven. A great storm rose, the snow and ice swirling in the air with such thickness that it still seemed night rather than morning. He pulled up a fold of his cloak over his head and wrapped it around his face to protect it from the biting winds and trudged on. He would do as she had asked. He would continue to help them until the monster he had set loose was no longer a threat. He would recover the rest of his power, and then…he would carry on with his plan. And hope that in the distant future he would create she would somehow be born again.

Day turned back into night once more. He marked the direction they were heading, and realized they were close to his former home. That would be ironic, but also expedient. He would need to consider a way to suggest that to the leadership, nudge them in that direction.

The storm let up, and then disappeared completely. The Inquisition took the respite they were gifted and made camp to rest their aching bodies and aching hearts. He stood at the edge, watching them scurry about with idle curiosity. The spirit that had come to Haven ahead of the attack moved up to stand beside him.

“Hello, Compassion,” Solas said.

“That’s not my name?” the spirit said, confused. “I’m Cole.”

Solas looked at him curiously. “My apologies, Cole,” he amended.

“It’s alright,” Cole replied. “You are used to Purposes, not solid shapes. I was once just a Purpose, but now I’m real.”

“Yes,” Solas replied. “How did you come to be?”

“I wanted to help, so I did, and I do,” Cole said simply. He cocked his head and regarded Solas for a moment. “Your name is Pride.”

Solas nodded once in acknowledgement. “It was. But like you I have taken a new name.”

“It’s still Pride. It just sounds different.”

“You are not wrong, Cole,” he said. “But please do not call me that in front of others.”

“Alright.”

They were silent for a long moment, watching the camp. “Why are you not helping them, Cole?” Solas asked.

“Your pain is louder. I came to help.”

“Ah.” Solas rubbed his forehead. “This is not a pain you can help with. But thank you.”

“But she isn’t gone! Are you going to go get her?” Cole asked.

Solas gaped at him. “What?”

“Your light, she is still burning, brighter for a moment but now almost snuffed. She needs help if she is going to keep the others warm.”

“Where is she, Cole? Do you know?”

“Yes.”

“Show me!”

He began to run in the direction Cole pointed. After a few moments it became clear she was not close by and he slowed his pace to a more sustainable gait. Cole followed behind, occasionally directing him. They headed out of the valley into woods between the slopes, great tall pine trees with far reaching branches caked with heavy snow. The moon had risen and shone brightly around them, making the snow sparkle like jeweled glass strewn beneath their feet. An hour passed. Then two. At the end of the third hour, Solas finally asked, “Are we close?”

“Yes,” Cole replied, but did not elaborate further.

Solas picked up his pace and Cole matched him. They rounded a large boulder and saw a dark shape slumped on the glittering snow, not moving.

“Ellana!” Solas cried and ran forward. She was breathing, but barely. She had a large cut on her forehead that had bled down into her hair and her collar. The tips of her ears and nose were red and raw from the blasting wind and cold. She appeared otherwise uninjured, but upon taking a closer look Solas could tell her left shoulder was pulled out of its socket. He suspected her ribs were bruised or broken as well, by the way she had fallen favoring her left side.

He had never been skilled in healing magics but he did what little he knew how to do, dulling the pain enough that he could gently lift her, one arm supporting her shoulders and the other hooked behind her knees. She whimpered softly but did not wake. Cole placed a hand on her forehead and closed his eyes for a moment.

“She will sleep now, until she feels better,” he declared. Cole unhooked Solas’ outer wrap and draped it over her, making sure to cover her face and hands to protect them from the cold. They began the hike back to camp, moving as quickly as they could without injuring Ellana further.

She woke, once, despite Cole’s declaration, and whispered his name. “Shh, lethallan. I’ve got you,” he murmured to her. She seemed to accept that, tucked her head into the crook of his arm and passed out again.

A shout trembled through the camp as they approached, no doubt the result of a scout seeing them return and guessing what was in his arms. Cassandra ran to meet them.

“Is she…?”

Solas nodded. “She is alive but gravely injured.”

“Bring her here,” Cassandra said, gesturing to a large tent with several cots set up. “I will get the healers.” She strode off, pushing people out of her way as she went.

He laid Ellana gently down on an empty cot. She did not wake. Cole brought a basin of warm water and a cloth and began cleaning the cut on her face. Cassandra returned with two of the Inquisition’s healers and they began to work. Solas moved back out of their way but could not bring himself to let her out of his sight.

How had she managed to escape the creature? Let alone make it all the way to where they found her, injured as she was? His hands tightened into fists as he contemplated what might have caused her injuries. Even if he had not already planned to kill Corypheus for expediency’s sake, now he would happily do so for pleasure of it.

And in the wake of rage at the magister for his trespass against her came guilt at his own hand in beginning the events that led to her lying on that cot, half-frozen and bruised and battered. He would have to spend another lifetime or more making up for the afflictions he had brought upon her.

She woke suddenly, gasping in pain, something the healers had done jerking her back into consciousness. Her eyes darted about wildly, and he moved closer so she could see him. She reached for him, and he knelt next to her head. Her grasping fingers curled into his shirt and pulled him down to her.

“Solas, did they make it? How many survived?”

He smiled gently. “Nearly all.”

She sagged back into the cot with relief and closed her eyes. Solas saw small tears gathering at the corners, and she let out a shaky laugh. “Good, good. That’s really good,” she whispered.

He covered her hand that was still clinging to his shirt with his own. “Rest now, let them heal you.” He kissed her knuckles and began to move back but her fingers tightened on his own. Her eyes opened, the tears finally falling and marking tiny trails through the grime and sweat on her temples.

“Stay with me?” she pleaded.

“Of course.”

***

She slept for several hours. The healers moved off, but Cole stayed, sitting on the opposite side of the cot from him as they both watched over her. Outside the tent, Solas could hear the frustrated voices of the Inquisition leadership arguing with one another on how to move forward. It was an excellent question. They needed to move soon; they probably had lingered too long in this place so near Haven, well within the range of an archdemon dragon’s flight. Likely they had not been attacked already only because Corypheus had realized he could not reclaim the power that was in Ellana – Solas had made sure of that, when he had warded it to fit inside her – and decided that this ragtag group of mortals was no longer worth his notice. Still, they needed a safe place to rebuild and grow if they were to have a chance at defeating him eventually.

Ellana stirred, and he squeezed her hand that he was still holding. She looked at him and smiled. “Hello,” she said softly.

He smiled back. “How are you feeling?”

She grimaced. “Better, but sore. Help me up?”

He helped pull her into a sitting position. She hissed out a breath between her teeth but otherwise did not complain. She looked outside the tent at the group of arguing leaders. “How long have they been at it?”

“Long enough to know that it isn’t helping,” he replied.

“They are scared, and probably at a loss for what to do.” She twisted experimentally, rolled her left shoulder, testing her range of movement. “Not too bad,” she remarked. “Considering I am supposed to be dead, anyway.”

“What happened?”

He listened as Ellana described her confrontation with the creature, carefully not allowing his thoughts to show on his face.

“I have never heard the name ‘Corypheus’, but what he was describing sounded like the stories the Chantry tells of mages breaching the Fade and bringing about the Blight,” she finished. “That can’t be possible, right? He can’t be one of those mages?”

Solas shook his head. “It is not likely, but anything is possible. He could be mad, or lying. Or both.”

“True enough. I’ll have to see if Dorian knows anything else about it. The creature mentioned championing Tevinter, so maybe there is a connection?” she mused. “Oh, by the way, I think he has the thing you were talking about wanting to find.”

“The cause of the explosion? Can you describe it?”

“It was round, with etching all over it. It crackled with energy that was the same color as the red lyrium. He did something with it that made my mark explode.” She rubbed her thumb into her left palm. “It hurt worse than it did when I first woke up.”

“I think I know what you are describing,” he sighed heavily. “It is an elvhen artifact.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, that is not good.”

“No, indeed. They already blame us for much. This will just add to the list,” he agreed. “I believe it may be a foci. The Creators used them to store and channel their power.”

“I wonder how it came to be in Corypheus’ hands,” she said. “Do you know how to shut it off? Or destroy it?”

“No,” he answered, honestly for once. “But we would do well to recover it, and keep its origins hidden if we can.”

She nodded. “Where it came from and how he got it really don’t matter much now anyway. Stopping him does.” She stood slowly, stiff but strong. He stood with her.

“I better go see what needs to be done now,” she said, and started walking out of the tent.

“Ellana,” he said, and she stopped, turning her head back to face him. “I am glad you made it.”

She smiled softly, and nodded once. “Thank you for saving me. Again.” She turned and continued walking out of the tent, and he followed.

Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine were huddled together as they continued their argument in lower tones, apparently having noticed the effect their shouting was having on morale. They turned to Ellana and Solas as they approached.

“Herald,” Josephine said. “I am glad to see you recovered!”

Ellana smiled and rubbed her side. “Not entirely, but well enough to get on with things. What’s our situation?”

“We have limited supplies and no where to go to regroup,” Cullen said shortly. “I suggested heading to Redcliffe but that apparently is not an option.” He scowled uncharitably at Josephine.

“An _Orlesian_ Inquisition marching into Ferelden would provoke a war,” she replied primly. “As I have explained. Three times.”

“We cannot simply retreat to Orlais, either,” Leliana added. “We would be seen as operating under Empress Celene and lose the support of the Ferelden nobles.”

“And probably Nevarra and Antiva, as well,” Josephine said.

“We should be above political games,” Cullen grumbled.

“We must decide something, and soon,” Cassandra said. “We cannot camp in the middle of this valley indefinitely.”

“If I may,” Solas said quietly. They all looked at him curiously. He cleared his throat. “I know of a place that might suit.”

Ellana arched an eyebrow at him.

“I was in the area near the Conclave because I had been studying some ruins north of here. A keep, in passably good condition for how old I believe it to be. It might be a place the Inquisition can turn into a defensible position.”

“That is certainly…convenient,” Cassandra said.

“A keep, you say?” Cullen rubbed his chin in thought. “It would be good to have actual walls around us, next time an archdemon appears.”

“Just so, Commander,” Solas agreed with a small nod. “I can roughly remember the direction, if you are interested in seeing for yourselves.”

Ellana laughed mirthlessly and spread her hands. “I really don’t see any other options, do you?”

**

The next morning they packed up camp and began marching north in as orderly a fashion as they could manage with such a large group. Solas did his best to remain circumspect as he pointed the scouts in the direction, they should be heading to reach the ruin. It would take them roughly a week to reach their destination, if his memory was sound. Ellana stayed near the head of the column, helping keep watch for the path ahead.

A few days into their journey Cassandra approached him. “Solas.”

“Seeker,” he returned her greeting.

“I am wondering, Solas,” Cassandra began, then faltered.

“How can I be of assistance, Seeker?”

“I confess, Solas, I am surprised you decided to remain,” she blurted, apparently giving up on finding a tactful way to phrase her question.

“Why?” Solas asked, keeping his tone neutral. “The Breach was a threat to us all, and now we have this Elder One to contend with.”

“Just the same. I wondered if you might leave now that we have sealed it,” she said. “Your offer of help did not extend further than that.” 

“Ah. Because I am an apostate. I might flee before the Inquisition throws me in chains?” Solas said with a sardonic laugh. “Circumstances have indeed changed, Seeker, but I do not feel as if I have fulfilled my obligations yet. Come what may I shall see this through.”

Cassandra eyed him. “Yes, I have noticed your change in _circumstances_.”

He did not acknowledge her meaning. “I take my commitments seriously, Seeker.”

She was quiet for a moment. “As you wish. Though I cannot guarantee what will happen in the days to come.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Seeker. Few would be so forthright when making a threat.”

“I am not threatening you, Solas, and it pains me to think you heard it that way,” Cassandra said. “Surely you must know that I do not have ultimate authority to guarantee your safety here.”

“What of our Herald? She is also a mage. Does she need to leave as well, now that you have used her mark to seal the sky?”

“No,” Cassandra replied seriously. “In point of fact, the opposite may be true. She has many qualities that make her an asset to any organization, that would make her a fine leader, in my opinion.”

Solas raised an eyebrow to her. “You would make a Dalish elf head of your Andrastrian Inquisition?”

“It seems a joke, I know, but I do think she would do well at it,” Cassandra said.

“You surprise me, Seeker.”

“Why?”

“You have just done the brutal, thankless work of putting the wheels in motion. Would you feel no regret at letting that power pass to another?”

She considered for a moment. “No, I did my part, but the power you describe was never mine to carry. I know myself, and I cannot be the leader we need. Thus, I would have no regrets.”

“That is…not what I would have expected,” Solas said.

Cassandra let out a snort of laughter. “Your opinion of me must be very low, if that surprises you.”

He shook his head. “Not low, simply realistic. Very few, however honorable, release power they have won.”

“That is very true,” she agreed. They walked together in silence for a time. Then, Cassandra spoke again.

“What are your intentions, regarding the Herald?” she asked.

He stopped, startled at her forthrightness. “I do not know how to answer that, Seeker.”

She stopped too. “Come now. It is my job to seek out truths others would rather remain hidden. And you are not particularly adept at keeping secrets, apparently.”

Solas scowled. “You’d be surprised.”

“Would I?” Cassandra raised an eyebrow at him and folded her arms. “I am not judging you. But she is young, and I would not see her harmed. Or distracted, if she does indeed become the leader of this Inquisition.”

“Seeker, if anything is true, the last thing I want is to see her come to harm. Least of all by my hand.”

“We are agreed, then.” Cassandra nodded once and walked on, apparently having gotten the answers she sought. He stared after her, embarrassment at her catching him out mingling with defiance and stubbornness at being told what to do by a human. Even by her, who was the best human he had met since waking. He looked to where he had last seen Ellana and caught her looking in his direction curiously. She turned away when he met her gaze.

He sighed, and for lack of anything better to do at the moment, walked on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving to weekly updates on Fridays so I don't burn out! That uploading every day thing was good to start but I gotta pace myself. This is a marathon now, not a sprint, apparently! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, and for all the comments and kudos! I am excited to get to the next bits of the story, as I have had some of them in my head since before I started writing :)


	17. Ellana

“Treacherous ground here. I'm picturing myself bumping all the way down a mountain.”

Ellana laughed and adjusted her coat. “Just don’t go wandering off and you should be fine, Dorian.”

“How do you have so much snow even in the spring?” Dorian wondered. “Makes me miss even the hottest summer days in Minrathous.”

“The mountains are not very forgiving, to be sure,” Ellana replied. “Hopefully wherever we’re going has lots of fireplaces.”

“Oooh yes, I could go for a nice cheery fire. And some hot mulled wine. And a book.” Dorian sighed. “Perfection.”

The ground began sloping sharply upward, and they both fell silent for a moment while they concentrated on climbing. Ellana got the sense that Dorian was like her, in that he had spent more time studying than hiking up mountainsides. Her ribs had almost healed from her fall a few days ago in Haven, but she was still short of breath sometimes. When they reached the crest of the hill, Ellana leaned over and put her hands on her knees, taking a few deep breaths.

Dorian noticed and put a hand on her back. “Are you alright?”

Ellana nodded. “Just a little winded. I’ll be fine.” Sudden warmth flowed from Dorian’s hand through her back and chest and the tightness eased. She looked up at him quizzically. “What was that?”

“Just a little stamina spell, nothing to worry about,” Dorian said. “Should help you breathe a little easier.”

“Ma serannas.” Ellana straightened and looked out at the view before them, shading her eyes with one hand. “Do you see anything yet?”

“Not yet, no. I’ve half a mind to ask that elf – the other one – if he means to lead us all to a snowy death by starvation.”

“Solas wouldn’t do that,” Ellana said.

Dorian shrugged. “If you say so. You have known him longer.” He eyed her knowingly. “And I dare say you know him much better than the rest of us, too.”

Ellana felt the blush rise to her cheeks but refused to acknowledge it. “I can’t imagine what you mean,” she said calmly.

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Dorian replied with a wink.

Ellana looked back at the elf in question, who seemed to be in a serious discussion with Cassandra. Just as she was looking, Cassandra nodded and walked off. He must have felt the weight of her gaze; his eyes locked with hers immediately. Ellana looked away quickly, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

“No, I am quite sure I was very mistaken,” Dorian said sardonically. Ellana reached out and punched him lightly on the arm. Dorian laughed and kept walking.

Ellana waited until Solas caught up with her. “Hello,” she said lightly.

“Hello.”

“So, any idea how much further we have to go?”

He chuckled. “Not far, I think. We should come upon it soon.”

“What is ‘it’ exactly? A castle? A temple?”

“A castle is the closest approximation. It has been built and re-built over the centuries; memories layered upon memories layered upon stone. The spirits that dwell there tell me its name is ‘Skyhold.’”

“Skyhold,” she repeated. “That sounds lovely. Did it have fireplaces?”

He laughed again. “A great many, yes. There is plenty of room for the Inquisition to house everyone.”

“I would very much like to not be cold, for once,” she sighed, and they carried on, walking for another full day. The weather stayed clear, thankfully, although it was still bitter cold this high in the Frostbacks. Around noon the next day, a shout went up from the front of the column and Ellana raced forward to see. She scrabbled up onto a large boulder and looked down into the valley stretching before them.

“Oh, Creators,” Ellana breathed in awe. Seated on a ridge across from her position was a magnificent castle, ruined but standing proud upon the mountainside. Large, imposing walls enclosed a high central tower that was surrounded by several smaller buildings. She could see some of the roof had fallen in places, and that some of the stonework had started to erode in the winds that whipped through the valley. But overall, Ellana looked at this place and felt _safe_ , for some reason she couldn’t explain.

“Skyhold,” Solas said. He had walked up behind her as she had been taking in the sight.

She reached back and took his hand. “This is perfect, how did you know this was here?”

He shrugged and looked down. “I have a knack for finding such places.”

“Herald!” Cassandra’s shout carried up the slope to her. “What have you found?”

Ellana turned and held up a fist in triumph. “I have found the Inquisition’s new home!”

A cheer went up from the people, and they descended with renewed vigor towards the keep.

**

From across the valley, she had not fully appreciated just how large Skyhold was. The walls were comfortably imposing from the inside, at least four feet thick and more in places with half a dozen towers dotted along their length. The main keep featured the high tower she had seen from a distance, a great hall that was large enough for her whole clan to have camped in – _with_ their aravels – and room after room of meeting halls, libraries, pantries, a grand kitchen, a secluded garden space…it would take her days to explore it all. It took them the rest of the day and the better part of the next to get everyone into the keep and settled.

Ellana, for her part, was grateful to have a place to sleep that was not as exposed. Haven had been the last place she had felt safe, and that illusion had been ripped away violently and completely. At least this place had high walls and places to retreat to if Corypheus did decide to chase them down. She shuddered at the thought. She found a quiet corner of the courtyard and set up her bedroll there, staring into the little fire she had made for herself until she fell into the deepest sleep she’d had in weeks.

She was awoken the next morning by Cassandra, who shook her gently by the shoulder. “Herald, may we speak?”

Ellana sat up and blinked, stretching the kinks out of her back. “Sure, Cassandra.” She yawned and covered her mouth. “What can I help you with?”

“I am sorry, I should let you wake, first,” Cassandra said.

“No, no it’s alright, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, actually,” Cassandra assured her. “I was actually coming to talk to you about something that feels _right_ , for once.”

“Oh, well that’s a nice change.”

The Seeker snorted. “Indeed.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “You have noticed that the Inquisition seems to lack real leadership, I am sure?”

Ellana cocked her head. “You lead it, along with Josephine and Leliana and Cullen.”

“That has been fine for now, but we are growing. People are arriving daily from all over Thedas. We can no longer effectively rule by committee.” She smiled ruefully. “Not that it was working exceptionally well before.”

“Which of you did you decide should lead? If you need the backing of the ‘Herald of Andraste’ you have it.”

Cassandra gave a small half smile and sat next to Ellana on the bedroll. “We have discussed who best to take on the role, and we have all decided unanimously.” She took a deep breath. “The Inquisition should be led by the one who is _already_ leading it – you.”

Ellana shot to her feet in surprise. “What?”

Cassandra stood too. “Consider, Ellana: you brokered the alliance with the rebel mages and were able to seal the Breach. You led us to this new home. Why do you think this Corypheus want you dead so badly?”

Ellana looked down at her mark. “He wanted this back, but now it is useless to him, so he just wants me gone so I am no longer a threat.”

“You are the creature’s rival because of what you have decided, how you have helped shape the Inquisition.” Cassandra shook her head. “Your mark may have had something to do with that, at first, but I believe that you were sent to lead us.”

“Cassandra, I am _Dalish_. I don’t even believe Andraste was holy, or in your Maker!” Ellana waved her hands dramatically. “How am I supposed to lead a _divine inquisition_? Who is going to listen to an elf?”

“All of those things should be to your detriment, that is true,” Cassandra replied.

Ellana let out a huff of laughter. “Ma serannas.”

“You know what I mean. The people will see these things as further proof that you _had_ to have been chosen by the Maker.”

“You really are serious, aren’t you,” Ellana said in disbelief. She rubbed her hands over her face. “Cassandra. I cannot do this. I am not at all equipped. I was barely ready to lead my clan, let alone an army! Creators preserve me.” She started to pace, chewing her thumbnail as she continued to mutter. Cassandra fell silent and let her think for a moment.

“All of you? Unanimously, you said?” Ellana asked.

“All of us,” Cassandra affirmed with a nod.

“Even Cullen?”

Cassandra laughed. “Yes, even Cullen. I think he admires you more than you realize.”

“Humph. Could’ve fooled me.” Ellana continued to pace. “So, if I agree. What do you want me to do?”

“That will be up to you, then,” Cassandra pointed out. “You will be the final say in all major decisions. We will be here to advise you of course, but you will lead us however you see fit.”

“Mythal enaste,” Ellana cursed under her breath. She looked at her mark again, the doubts about why she was chosen to bear it and if she would buckle under the burden rushing to the surface. _She Who Can Do Anything_ , he’d told her that was her name. She remembered the dream with Ghilly and what her shade had said. If not Ellana, then who?

She sighed. “We have to defeat this Corypheus before he breaks the world. And of all the powers who could do it, I think the Inquisition is the only one that will even try.” She looked Cassandra in the eye. “Yes, I will do it.”

Ellana let out of huff of surprise as she was suddenly enveloped in a swift hug. Cassandra seemed to realize what she had done as soon as it happened and stepped back quickly. She frowned at Ellana. “Pretend that did not happen.”

Ellana dusted off the front of her robes. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Leliana is waiting for us in front of the keep.” Cassandra turned on her heel and began heading that direction.

***

One ridiculously large sword (which made no sense to give her, since she was a mage, but if it made the humans feel better then fine) and a discussion of where to go next that took probably four times longer than strictly necessary, and Ellana was finally freed to go to her new quarters. Josephine had designated the suite at the top of the tallest tower as the Inquisitor’s chambers.

_Inquisitor Ellana. Inquisitor Lavellan. Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan._ However she said it, it still sounded so surreal.

Her new rooms struck that strange balance between spacious and cozy, comfortably small without feeling restrictive. They were surprisingly well-furnished for such short notice; Josephine must have started work up here as soon as they arrived. One corner of the suite was furnished by a writing desk and cozy chair with bookshelves behind; the opposite corner featured a massive bed piled high with quilts and pillows. A small washstand with a bowl and ewer stood against the stone wall under a polished mirror on the back wall of the room. Ellana could see a gap in the wall near the washstand that she assumed led to a bathing room. The two outer facing walls were lined nearly completely with large stained-glass windows, bright colors interweaving in delicate patterns she did not recognize but must have been significant to whomever had built this tower most recently. Surprisingly, none were broken, even though the rest of the keep looked as if it had been abandoned for some time. A large hearth was placed in one of the outer walls, between two of the stained-glass windows.

She found that these windows were doors that opened out onto balconies, one facing the mountains and the other overlooking the courtyard of Skyhold. This high up, she expected cold winds to whip at her as soon as she stepped outside, but only a slight breeze tickled the loose strands of her hair that had fallen about her face. The sun was bright and warm, and she turned her face up to soak it in for a few moments. Whatever strange magic this place had, she would not question its benefits. She stood there long enough that the sun began to dip beneath the mountain peaks as night drew closer.

Ellana sighed and went back inside, walking over to the desk. Josephine had furnished her with paper and ink, and she had already placed reports and letters for Ellana to review in a neat stack on one corner. Ellana lit a candle with a brief flicker of willpower and flipped through the stack quickly. Josephine had done a good job weeding out the most urgent matters that needed the Inquisitor’s – her – attention, but also had taken on the things that required immediate response for Josephine herself to answer. Ellana was grateful for that consideration; it meant she could review and respond to them after she had slept a little.

_Or try to, at least,_ she thought ruefully as she considered the bed they had installed. She had never slept anywhere so grand in her life. The first time she had slept in what most would consider an actual bed was in Haven; not to mention she had never slept never fully indoors before that, either. She sat down on the edge of the bed tentatively, bouncing once or twice as a test. The mattress was soft but sprang back readily. Ellana flung most of the pillows and extra blankets off into the floor to give herself more room and laid back. The sensation of not being on the ground while she slept would never stop being a bit strange, but she had started to get used to it. She could adapt; that was one of the first things Dalish learned, to adapt to survive. The Inquisition had adapted too, and would have to continue to do so to defeat Corypheus. She yawned deeply, apparently more tired than she had realized…

…and found herself in the Fade. The air-that-was-not-air shimmered around her and coalesced into a place she knew: Haven. Not as she had last seen it, ruined and buried beneath snow and ash, but as it had been when she first had come to think of it as home. The aroma of roasting meats for that night’s supper over the open fires mingled with the tang of metal from Harrod’s smithy and the sharp earthy scent of ale from Flissa’s tavern. Threnn shouted orders from her quartermaster’s station and Leliana murmured secrets to her agents and Cassandra’s sword clunked against her wooden practice dummies in a semi-regular rhythm.

Ellana again stood in awe of how _real_ everything could seem here. It was a wonder more did not lose themselves in this place, never waking again in the real world.

“Real is relative. And that used to be more common than you know,” Solas said from beside her.

The suddenness of his appearance would have made her jump had she not felt his presence touch her mind a second before he spoke.

“Why here?” she asked without turning to him.

“Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you,” he replied.

“Hmm, I suppose.” She studied the scene before them, suddenly overwhelmed by sorrow for what had been taken from them.

“You should not feel guilt. You did everything anyone could have possibly done to save them. And you succeeded where others would have failed completely.” His hand rested gently on her lower back, comforting.

“I know that you are right, in my head. My heart is still catching up,” she said.

“If you felt nothing, that would be troublesome,” he replied.

She let out a small laugh. “I suppose that is true.”

“Come, let me show you something.” They didn’t move but the scene shifted, almost imperceptibly, and they were standing in the undercroft of Haven’s chantry, where she had first woken after the explosion.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor,” he said.

“Yes. I still don’t quite understand why, but I’m glad you were watching over me.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You were a mystery.” He turned to her and his mouth quirked into a half smile. “You still are.”

“You mean this is,” she said, holding up her left hand.

“No, I mean _you_.” He took her upheld hand in his own. “You have shown strength and wisdom beyond your years, such that I had not thought to see again.”

“Again?”

“Outside the memories of the Fade,” he clarified. He rubbed his thumb across her left palm. “I tried every spell I knew, every test I could think of, even enlisted outside help from the healers and apothecaries. Nothing worked. Cassandra was ready to throw me in irons for trial.”

“I wouldn’t have let her,” Ellana snapped.

“You were in no position to argue, as you are now,” he chuckled. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” He continued his reverie. “You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the fade? I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra, or she in me. I was ready to flee.”

She snorted. “The Breach threatened the whole world. Where exactly did you plan to go?”

“Some place far away, where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me.” He shrugged again and smiled ruefully. “I never said it was a good plan.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t leave.” The scene shifted and they were standing outside again in the sunlight as snow-that-was-not-snow drifted slowly down around them.

Solas looked up at the approximation of the Breach, which in this dreamscape was still unsealed. “I told myself, one more try, one more attempt to seal the rifts. So, I tried, and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow and resigned myself to flee. And then – “ 

With a sudden flash of green light, they were standing at the first rift she had ever sealed, his arm around her waist, left hand holding hers up to the sky. The rift closed again, like it had before, and they were back in Haven.

“‘It seems you hold the key to our salvation,’” he said softly, arms still around her. He released her left wrist. “You had sealed it with a gesture, and right then, I felt the whole world change.”

Ellana turned in his arms to look at him. “‘Felt the whole world change?’” she repeated.

“It is…a figure of speech,” he said.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m familiar with the metaphor. I’m more interested in ‘felt.’”

His eyes darted back and forth, searching hers. There was a depth of yearning there she had not yet seen, that he had not yet let her see. “You change…everything,” he whispered. The look on his face was at once pained and longing, mixed with the barest hint of wary happiness, as if he was not used to being happy. She wanted to banish the pain until only the joy remained. Before she could question it, she took his face into her hands and pressed her lips to his, finally abandoning what little pretenses she had remaining.

He stumbled back as if her mouth had been a flaming brand. At first, she thought she had pushed too far, done too much, and now he would say that he had meant to come here to let her down gently, to tell her again that it was not wise, they should not do this. She turned away, unable to look at his face directly as he said those words or she would embarrass herself even more, if such a thing was even possible.

And then he was pulling her back to him, and kissing her with even more passion that she had impulsively displayed, lips sliding over hers and tongue pressing against her lower lip until she opened and he _drank_ of her, a dying man in a desert who has just seen his first oasis and fallen face-first into the sweet, cool waters that would renew his life.

She reveled in the feel of him, his body pressed to hers, his mouth warm and soft, and a fire began to build within her; different from the fires of rage, different from the quiet, steady affection she had shared with Ghilly, different than anything she had ever felt in her life. She gasped, inadvertently breaking the kiss, and he pulled back, shaking his head as if to abjure himself from what he wanted, from what she wanted. Desire overcame sense, then, and he pulled her back to him once more, drinking again from the oasis she offered freely.

He broke the kiss a third time, gently, with no small amount of remorse. He rested his forehead against hers. “We shouldn’t. It’s not right, not even here.”

“You deserve happiness, you know,” she said quietly. “As much as anyone.”

He closed his eyes, pained. “I gave up that chance long ago. But I thank you for thinking so.”

She sighed and kissed his cheek. “Like I said before, I’ll take what you can give me.”

He stepped back. “I think this discussion is better handled when you wake up.”

And so she did, back in her tower suite. It was the middle of the night now, the cheery fire that had been lit in her hearth burned down to embers. She stretched, her back aching from the unfamiliar bed, and it was far too warm in the room. Frustrated for more reasons than she could count, she grabbed a single pillow and blanket and carried them out to the balcony, where she laid down and counted the stars until it was morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mythal preserve me I know I said updates on Fridays but I COULDN'T WAIT. 
> 
> :D


	18. Solas

The rasp of the trowel as it scraped across the stone before him was soothing, familiar. The smell of the plaster he has mixed from a recipe long forgotten by anyone but him filled him with nostalgia and longing for simpler days when his chief concern was getting the surface just smooth enough to hold the pigments, he planned to infuse into it. For a moment, he could dream, pretend that this is one of those days, and all that mattered was the art he created on the walls of his home.

He had chosen the location for his work well; no one came through this space as a matter of course. It could serve as a path between rooms in the keep, but there were other, more straightforward ways for one to get where one needed to be and nothing of interest to see in this room.

Hiding in plain sight, as he nearly always found himself.

He focused on placing the plaster, trying to banish his maudlin with the simple rote actions of preparation. Dip, scrape, smooth, and again. Over and over again until it was perfect and then on to the next section, until the whole painting surface was covered in sparkling creamy white. It appeared deceptively simple work; yet he knew any seemingly imperceptible mar or imperfection he left now would show through like a beacon drawing the eye away from being able to see the finished piece as a whole. Once hardened, the plaster was impossible to repair, and any mistakes would have to be scraped down and the process begun again.

The plaster did not brook falsehood. Everything the artist did was laid bare for all to see, for good or ill. He reveled in the simple truthfulness of the art, this small outlet he allowed himself in his daily lie.

To keep his thoughts from wandering as his hands worked on their own, he began to build the image he wanted to create in his mind’s eye. A tribute, to the people of Haven and their sacrifice. A sacrifice he made necessary by his foolish decisions. Always, he acted, and the consequences fell on others. He had never considered himself impetuous or foolhardy, but he had to admit that recent events were making him reevaluate.

He had nearly killed her twice, now. She represented all of them, every innocent person who had ever suffered because of his choices. She made it _real_ , made him look at what he had done. And she had fixed what he had broken, twice. She had sealed the Breach and saved many who would have otherwise been slaughtered at Corypheus’ hands. She was at once consequence and solution, regret and hope; the living breathing dichotomy created by his errors.

Could he cling to the hope? Or was he doomed to remain in the sorrow, drowning under the weight of eons of false steps?

Dip, scrape, smooth.

The dream had been an attempt to tell her the truth. He was so tired, exhausted really, of wearing this mask he had created for himself. He longed to simply tell her everything, ask for forgiveness, ask for her help. But that revelation after what he had selfishly indulged in with her, that would be more infinitely crueler than the fate he already knew she would face.

No, there was only one thing he could do now, one last kindness he could extend to her. And that was to stop this budding romance before it blossomed even further in her heart.

Dip, scrape, smooth.

Later though. No reason to face breaking her heart immediately. For now, he would do this, and leave her be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short, but I'm posting the next chapter at the same time. Ir arbelas! The painting technique Solas uses is theorized to be based primarily on "buon fresco", used by masters in Renaissance Italy. More info about that in this excellent blog post: https://sulahnenasalin.tumblr.com/post/122544768009/lets-talk-solas-frescoes-solas-paintings-are
> 
> Love you all to the moon and back. This started as a self-care project and I am elated that others are enjoying it along with me. :) You all are the best!


	19. Ellana

Ellana breathed in the calming scent of mint, cardamom, and clove from her steaming mug and sighed. The warmth of the ceramic seeped into her fingers and eased the aches in her hands from the long day spent scratching out replies and reports with quill and ink. She had known how to write the trade tongue but it had been some time since she’d had to employ it in earnest. She thanked Mythal for giving her mother the foresight to have her taught; it would have been tedious and embarrassing to be an illiterate Inquisitor.

Her eyes drifted out the open window, attention caught by the glint of the sunlight off the wings of a bird that passed by on the wind. She envied the creature’s freedom for half a second, imagined that it had nothing more to worry about than finding its next meal or sheltering from a storm. In contrast, she was leading an army against a creature from literal nightmares and had no idea what she was doing or where to do next.

And then there was Solas…her brow furrowed at the thought of his name. It had been over a week since they had kissed – although she wasn’t sure she’d even call it that, since it had happened in the Fade and not in reality. He would argue they were both just as real; she was not sure she agreed. And what he’d said, about how it “wasn’t right” … it was the opposite of what he’d said before Haven fell. Sort of.

“Thus, I would suggest caution where the merchants of Antiva are concerned. Inquisitor?” Josephine’s voice broke through Ellana’s reverie.

“Oh, Josephine, _ir_ _arbelas_. I got distracted.” She set her tea down and focused on the ambassador sitting across from her desk. They were in Ellana’s chambers, where they had been working most of the last few days slowly making their way through the ever-growing stack of papers piled on the blotter.

“It has been a long day, after several long days. I understand,” Josephine replied graciously. “There were many matters that had to wait until we had named an Inquisitor. Hopefully we can work through the backlog and it will not be so much at once in the future.”

Ellana smiled gratefully. “You are doing an excellent job, Ambassador. We would not be a third as organized without your steady hand.”

Josephine demurred but Ellana spotted the slight flush on her olive cheeks. “It is nothing, I enjoy the work.”

“What do you think our next move is?”

Josephine considered a moment before answering. “Generally, we need to continue to build support among the nobility as well as the common people. Word of your heroism against the Elder One at Haven has won us many new … converts? Although that is probably not the proper term.” She smoothed the front of her doublet absently. “More specifically, we have two pressing issues. The Wardens, and the Empress.”

“Yes. What is the situation in Orlais? Have Leliana’s people been able to get any solid leads?” She picked up her mug and began sipping her tea again while she listened.

“A few, but none have borne fruit yet,” Josephine said. “It might be worth considering going there ourselves.”

“To court?” Ellana choked mid-sip. “In person?”

“Indeed. The Empress is planning a masquerade ball to host peace talks in the hopes of ending the civil war of succession with her cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard. I could easily procure the Inquisition invitations.”

“Have you suggested this to the others?”

“I have. Cullen of course considers it a waste of time. His suggestion was to send forces to protect the Empress outright.”

“That would be seen as a takeover and undermine Empress Celene’s power, which would have the effect of destabilizing the country.”

Josephine nodded. “Indeed, which is exactly what this Corypheus seems to want. So that is not an option.”

“And Leliana?”

Josephine’s lips twitched in a smirk. “She is trying to hide how eager she is to once again play a part in the Game. But I have known her too long. We both miss it, after a fashion.”

“Tell me about the Game. I’ve read things, rumors mostly. It all seems very abstract.” Ellana sat back in her chair and crossed one ankle over the opposite knee.

“Oh, it is abstract. But also very straightforward, in some ways. The Game is the complex web of secrets, lies, maneuvers, and ploys that everyone who is anyone in Orlais plays at least a little, whether they admit it or not. Anything one can do to consolidate one’s own power and influence is permitted, even encouraged, including murder.”

“Seriously? Orlesian nobles just go around killing one another for sport?”

“Heavens, no!” Josephine exclaimed, taken aback. “They would have their spies and servants do it for them.” She grinned.

Ellana laughed. “So, it’s politics, basically. But to the death.”

“ _Exactament_ , _madame_ ,” Josephine said in Orlesian with a wink. “If we appear at the masquerade and assist in brokering peace between the rival factions, we could conceivably throw our support behind whomever we wished to have the throne of Orlais. That person would then lend the might of the Empire to whatever ends the Inquisition desired. It would be quite a coup, as well as a prime opportunity to root out the assassins that the Elder One has placed at court.”

Ellana considered for a moment. Josephine’s proposal was very persuasive and made sense besides. “Very well, see what can be done about securing invitations for a small party. I think you three, myself, and a small party to accompany me should I need to go…exploring the grounds?”

Josephine all but clapped her hands in delight. “As you say, Inquisitor. I shall prepare some information for you to review regarding the most important persons who will be in attendance. And I shall contact my tailors in Orlais, you will need proper attire! And a mask!”

Ellana rolled her eyes but there was no real mockery in it. “If I must, Josephine.”

“Appearances are everything at Court,” Josephine said firmly, standing from her chair. She gave a small bow. “I shall leave you to your evening, Inquisitor.” She left, footsteps echoing softly in the stairwell down the tower.

Ellana stood and stretched as she left. It was nearly twilight, the sun having already sunken behind the peaks, leaving them shadowy teeth limed in an incandescent orange-red glow, and the first few stars were beginning to show at the horizon. She started to move outside to her balcony when she heard another softer set of footfalls coming _up_ the stairs. Turning her head, she watched as Solas walked up the remaining few steps and stood on the landing. It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her to invite him into the room.

“Oh, please come in, excuse the mess.” Ellana moved back behind the desk and began tidying the papers nervously into neater piles. “Josephine is quite the taskmaster.”

“It is no bother,” he said quietly. He cleared his throat. “I must apologize.”

She didn’t look up. “For kissing me. Or avoiding me?”

“Both,” he admitted. “I … the kiss was ill-advised, impulsive. It has been a long time since – well, things become easier for me, in the Fade. Barriers that exist in the waking world are not present.”

“What barriers? That I am Dalish? The Inquisitor, now?” She shook her head and looked up at him, finally. “I’m sorry, it’s either feast or famine with you. Before Haven, you seemed…to agree, that there was something here.”

He took a step forward, then stopped himself, hands clenching into fists at his side. “I can’t…”

“Can’t _what_ , Solas?” Ellana stepped around the desk, removing that barrier between them, at least. “I told you, I don’t care what you’re hiding, or if you never tell me what it is.” She reached for his hand. “Just be present with me, here and now.”

He closed his eyes. “You cannot imagine how badly I wish I could do that.” His gaze met hers. “You deserve much more than half a love. I cannot give you all of me, so I should give you none.”

“And if I choose – as I have chosen, remember – to accept what you _can_ see fit to share? I don’t get a say?”

“You are young. You will see, in time; this is the better way, the fairer way.”

Ellana released his hand as she threw hers up in frustration. “Stop acting like you are doing me a favor by rejecting me, Solas. Just say you don’t feel anything, and I will let it go. Just admit it, stop dancing around it like a coward –”

“I am _not_ a coward,” he all but yelled, his careful self-control finally cracking. “You have no idea what I have done, and what I still have to do!”

“And I’ll just get in your way, is that it?” she was yelling now, too, feeling that tiny spark of rage beginning to grow within her again. “ _Distract_ you?”

“Yes!” he snapped.

The force of his voice was almost like a blow. Ellana stepped back, nearly stumbled when she bumped into the desk. She leaned back against it, both hands gripping the edge with white-knuckled ferocity. The silence crept between them with the growing darkness. Her hands relaxed on the desk, then her fingers began to drum a soft rhythm on their own as she considered.

“I am sorry if I pushed something on you that you did not want,” she said, choosing the words carefully. It was difficult to keep her tone even, and her words were tinged with just a touch of bitter acid. “You have only to say you do not feel anything between us, and I will trouble you no more about it.”

He opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again immediately, jaw clenching. After a moment, he said, “If I said that, it would be another lie.” Then he sighed, tension draining out of his body in a rush. “ _Ir_ _arbelas_ , I should not have encouraged this.”

“And yet you did,” Ellana pointed out. She took a small step toward him, putting herself within his reach. “Why?”

His arm raised towards her, a nearly instinctual movement. He gripped her face with one hand, curling his fingers under her jaw. “This will lead to trouble.”

“I am willing to risk it, if you are,” she said softly.

“I..” he shook his head, and simply bent and kissed her as an answer. This time was softer, more measured. A sip, rather than the deep draughts from before. She let him lead, afraid to give him room to doubt himself again, and felt something in him give, just a little. He pulled back after moment and rested his forehead on hers.

“You are remarkable,” he breathed. “I had not thought to find anyone who…could pull my attention from the Fade.”

“Are you saying I’m better than your wildest dreams?” Ellana smirked.

He chuckled and the sound warmed her to her toes. “That is one way of putting it, I suppose.”

Feeling braver, Ellana reached up to twine her arms around his neck. “Sweet talker.”

They stood for a moment in silence, neither one of them wanting to break the tenuous truce they had brokered. Finally, he kissed her cheek and stood back.

“I will leave you to rest,” he said.

She nodded, and he turned to leave. “Solas.”

He paused, head turning back to her slightly.

“Whatever you need, we can find it together.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, but he nodded once. “I will try to remember that promise, Ellana.”

She watched him leave, wondering again what he held so tightly to himself, refusing to let go though it hung about his neck like a stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The tea Ellana drinks in this scene is inspired by one I actually was drinking while writing this chapter :) It is Mystic Mint by Tea Runners!
> 
> You, dear readers, are my respite from the real world we find ourselves forced to live in. Love you all!


	20. Interlude - Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Life is stupid and gets in the way of creative pursuits all too often. Due to troubles both personal and national (anyone in the future look up 2020 for context, yeesh) I have had the most righteous case of writer's block these past few weeks and have not felt good enough about anything I've come up with to post it. I have had a think about where I want this story to go, and more will be coming! I just can't guarantee when. I have decided to put an end on this part and call it Book One. I'll begin posting Book Two when I am happy with enough material to share. 
> 
> Thank you for your time reading and your patience as you waited for updates. You all are the best and I re-read your comments when I am feeling down. In thanks, have an alternate-alternate-universe early version of their second kiss as an end cap to this part of the story. See you soon!

She was on a balcony. It was night, yet the light from the waxing moon shone all around, reflecting off the polished marble with a phosphorescent glow. A lake shimmered below the balcony, stretching as far as she could see; the line where it met the sky was so far removed from her as to be barely visible.

The stone was cool and smooth beneath her fingers, the air crisp as on the best days at the very beginning of autumn that hint at the coming winter but whisper _not yet_. The slightest breeze stirred, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms, teasing the tendrils of hair that had fallen from their place onto the back of her neck. She shivered as they tickled against her skin.

Everything about this night in which she found herself was perfectly normal and expected, yet it was simply _more,_ somehow. She could not recall being so aware of everything around her. Was this a side effect of the mark suddenly manifesting itself? She looked at her left palm to see if there was any change.

Her mark was not there. She frowned in confusion, her brows furrowing. She looked around herself again. Fireflies were appearing now, though that was also strange for the beginning of autumn, when those creatures went back to sleep waiting for spring to return. They blinked and buzzed and added their green pinpoints of light to the stars winking from the inky indigo heavens above.

They were pleasant, and pretty, and – not wrong, precisely, but not quite right, either.

“Where am I?” she wondered aloud.

“Where do you think you are?” a voice, _his_ voice, answered her.

She turned towards the sound, and there he stood where a moment before there was only empty balcony. He was _more_ as well; taller, leaner, his features all angles and sharp edges. His eyes burned a brilliant blue-grey, the depth of feeling there softening the facets of his face.

He was beautiful.

“Oh,” she breathed.

He smiled, and it was nearly enough to unravel her.

She swallowed, trying to relieve the sudden drought in her throat. “You did this? This is a dream.”

“Correct,” he confirmed. “You asked me to show you what was possible. And here we are.”

She drank in their surroundings once again, reveling in the vibrancy of it all. On impulse, she held out a finger, delighted when a firefly perched upon it. She laughed. “This is amazing!”

He stepped towards her, and took her upheld hand in one of his own. The firefly floated back into the air to rejoin its fellows. His hand was rough and soft at the same time, gentle and firm, its own small set of contradictions that mirrored his contradictory whole. He pulled gently, bringing her closer to him. He rested his other hand gently on her waist.

“I’m so pleased you like it,” he said softly. “I thought about the best place to bring you for a long time.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “A long time? You’ve been planning this?”

“Indeed.” He gazed at her, eyes roaming her face looking for an answer she wasn’t sure she had for a question she didn’t know. The intensity of his scrutiny unnerved her, and she looked down, suddenly shy.

“Oh. I had thought…you had been so distant, since the last dream, in Haven, and so I wasn’t sure…” she took a deep breath. “If you felt the same way. Or maybe you had forgotten it.” she finished, lamely.

He let go of her hand, and her fears were confirmed; he did not – and then he was gripping her jaw gently tilting her face back up to look at him. Something had broken open in his face, and she could read all the things he was feeling as clearly as if they were written on a page. Affection, admiration, resignation ( _resignation?)_ , and just the tiniest trace of hope.

“I have _not_ forgotten,” he said. “I have thought of little else since.” His eyes drifted to her mouth, and then back up to her eyes. “I should like to kiss you again, if you will allow it.” The basso rumble of his voice and the heat in his eyes pulled at something low in her belly, lighting a fire of her own.

“Ye—” He read the answer in her eyes, the hand on her jaw pulling her face up, his mouth pressing to hers before she could even finish the word. His lips were warm, his tongue darting out, at once teasing and inquiring. Her breath caught in her throat in a soft moan, and he took that as the confirmation she meant to convey. He pressed her mouth open with his own, deepening the contact, exploring her soul through her mouth.

She matched his fervor with her own, exceeded it, drinking him in as much as he would allow. She leaned into him, pressed into his chest, felt his heart hammering underneath the thin cotton of his shirt. He pulled her closer still, the hand on her waist gripping more tightly as he slipped the other from her jaw to entwine in her hair. She answered in kind, moving her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him even more into her. She was hungry, _insatiable_ for his touch, wanting nothing more in that moment than to lose herself, to slip into him and disappear forever.

He must have felt the depth of her desire. He growled, a low and feral sound, and reached down and lifted her bodily onto the balcony railing. And then he was on her again, nudging himself between her thighs, putting as much of himself against her as possible. She wrapped her legs behind his waist and pulled him in still further, causing another growl to rumble from his throat. He broke off from her mouth, tugging her head to the side by her hair – almost firm enough to hurt, but not too much – to press rough kisses down her jaw. When he reached her neck, he nipped gently at the skin there, drawing a gasp from her. He bit harder, encouraged by her reaction, tugging her hair a little more sharply.

The tiny hurts stoked the fire in her belly, building higher and higher, until she thought she would die of it.

“Solas,” she breathed. It was gratitude and want and pleading all wrapped into one word.

He stilled, pressed his forehead into the curve of her neck. “Would you like me to stop?” he murmured.

His voice was fine brandy rolling over river stones. She shivered. “No,” she said at first. “And yes.”

He pressed a single gentle kiss to the corner of her jaw and pulled back, not entirely out of her arms but putting space between them. “ _Ir abelas_ , I should not have gotten so carried away.”

She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, don’t apologize, I wanted – want you to, I think.” She bit her lip, uncertain. “It’s just, I…” she looked away, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as well as her desire.

His eyes widened as he realized. “You have not – I am your first?”

“Well, you know how it is,” she shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Too many books, I guess.”

He laughed and embraced her carefully, as if she were spun of crystal and air. “I should’ve have known, and gone slower, _ir abelas_ ,” he murmured into her hair, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

“I mean, it’s fine.” Her face was smushed against his chest. She adjusted so she could speak clearly. “It’s just not a thing that comes up in conversation for me very often.”

She could feel his smile from where his face was still pressed into her hair. “ _Ma’fenorain_.”

She sighed against him. “You haven’t taught me that one yet.”

“A rough approximation would be ‘my precious one’” he clarified.

“Hmm,” she hummed, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “I think I should feel condescended to, but I don’t. How strange.”

He chuckled again, and then leaned back from her to look at her face. “I want to be clear. You are in charge, _ma’fenorain._ You set the pace.”

“Ugh, another thing I have to be charge of?” she complained, feigning irritation. “Leading an entire semi-religious military organization isn’t enough?”

“You jest. But I would do nothing to you without your consent,” he said seriously. 

The earnestness in his face made her adore him even more. She reached up and pulled his face down to hers yet again.

“You have” she kissed his right cheek – “my absolute” she kissed his left cheek – “unreserved” she kissed the tip of his nose – “ _enthusiastic_ ” she kissed his mouth, lingered there for a long moment – “consent,” she finished.

He smiled, and kissed her again, but he was far more reserved this time. “We have dreamt of what could be enough for one night, I think.”

She awoke with a gasp, and raised a trembling hand to her lips where she could still feel the heat of his touch.


End file.
